WOMAN'S  WOMAN 


NALBRO  HARTLEY 


MEN-TWISS    LIMITED 

UfcPARTMENT 
SASKATOON, 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 


"  Come,  Sally,  I  know  how  deadly  marriage  is.     Take  your  own  home 

for  example  —  have  your  parents  kept  their  romance  ?  " 

(See  page  184) 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 


BY 

NALBRO  BARTLEY 

Author  of  "Paradise  Auction,"  "The 
Bargain  True,"  etc. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS   BY 

HENRY  RALEIGH 


BOSTON 
SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1919 
BY  TH1  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1919 
BY  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


Third  Printing,  August,  1919 
Fourth  Printing,  September,  1919 


Ob 
JACK 


2134302 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  Come,  Sally,  I  know  how  deadly  marriage  is.  Take 
your  own  home  for  example  —  have  your  parents 
kept  their  romance  ?"  See  page  184  Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  You're  deceitful  and  mean  and  selfish  —  I'll  wager 
you  fifteen  years  from  now  you'll  be  a  wreck  — 
a  wreck  —  a  wreck  — "  .  .  .  .  .65 

"  I  want  to  paint  pretty  useless  things  —  and  drum  a 
little  on  the  piano,  and  make  oodles  of  clothes 
and  hats  and  just  stay  at  home."  See  page  94  .  154 

"  —  blow  into  town  presumably  walking  the  ties  and 
get  a  job  at  the  factory,  act  as  rough  as  I  like 
and  lay  in  wait  to  see  if  they  are  employing  child 
labor."  See  page  12$ 256 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 


i 

It  was  during  her  elder  daughter  Harriet's  high-school 
graduation  in  1901  that  Densie  Plummer  determined 
after  nineteen  years  of  unquestioned  loyalty  to  break  up 
her  home  and  start  life  anew  in  strange  and  contrasting 
channels. 

As  she  looked  at  her  family  beside  her  and  thought  of 
the  old  friends  sitting  just  behind,  and  at  Harriet,  presi- 
dent of  her  class,  she  wondered  if  she  betrayed  her  trea- 
son. Her  flushed  cheeks  were  probably  attributed  to 
pride  —  Harriet  winning  the  gold  medal  for  first  honors. 
However  she  was  not  thinking  about  Harriet  any  more 
than  Harriet  was  included  in  the  general  retrospection 
that  seemed  to  demand  all  of  Densie's  attention. 

She  kne\y  that  if  she  remained  in  the  Little  House  on 
the  Hill  —  so  she  and  John  Plummer  had  named  it  when 
they  returned  from  their  wedding  journey  —  she  would 
be  subjected  to  the  painful  and  never-ending  process  of 
"  educating  mother  " ;  that  Sally  and  Harriet  and  Ken- 
neth, her  one  son,  and  John,  her  husband,  would  relent- 
lessly proceed  to  assail  her  old-fashioned  ideas  and  stand- 
ards, though  offering  her  no  substitute  in  return.  She 
therefore  determined  to  seek  her  own  substitute. 

She  applauded  for  some  inane  recitation  and  assumed 
a  conventional  smile  of  motherly  pride  as  Harriet  began 
to  read  her  essay.  But  she  could  not  have  repeated  a 
single  word  of  it,  though  her  dark  blue  eyes  —  the  sort 

i 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

that  turn  purple  in  novels  —  kept  staring  at  seventeen- 
year-old  Harriet  Plummer,  tall  and  thin,  a  clever  sallow- 
faced  girl  with  dark  bright  eyes  and  black  hair  combed 
into  a  huge  knot  regardless  of  fashion. 

Densie  was  promising  herself  that  as  soon  as  she  was 
alone  in  her  home  —  to-morrow  afternoon  very  likely  — 
she  would  indulge  in  a  retrospection  of  her  life,  in  which 
she  would  review  all  that  had  happened,  good  or  bad,  as 
a  retiring  general  does  his  army.  She  wanted  to  be  sure 
of  herself  before  she  made  this  drastic  change.  If  after 
the  retrospection  was  fully  accomplished  she  was  still  of 
the  same  mind  she  would  become  a  flat  dweller. 

Sally,  sitting  at  her  right  hand,  began  to  fidget  with  her 
pink  feather  fan.  Sally  was  fifteen  and  inclined  to  pret- 
ties even  as  Harriet  was  to  books.  But  Densie  did  not 
turn  in  reproval;  she  stared  ahead  wondering  why  this 
strange  yet  fascinating  resolution  had  come  to  her,  and 
what  would  be  its  results. 

Sally  dropped  her  fan  and  Dean  Laddbarry,  Sally's 
cavalier  from  kindergarten  days,  bent  to  pick  it  up.  Den- 
sie did  not  notice,  though  at  that  moment  she  was  thinking 
about  Sally  and  Dean,  and  that  Sally  was  too  handsome 
to  be  true.  As  some  of  the  old  friends  had  said  when  she 
was  a  baby,  "  She  will  either  break  hearts  or  have  her  own 
broken,  since  she  is  destined  for  romance." 

At  fifteen  Sally  was  beginning  to  fulfill  the  prophecy  — 
she  had  been  born  "  cuddled,"  as  she  said;  made  for  love 
and  kisses  and  endless  admiration,  which  she  grew  to  ac- 
cept as  Harriet  did  her  pieces  of  bread  and  butter  or 
Kenneth  his  occasional  pats  on  the  shoulder.  Her  chest- 
nut-red hair  curled  irresistibly  and  was  combed  a  different 
way  every  day  in  the  week,  adorned  with  a  different  col- 
ored bow.  Harriet  never  bothered  about  her  hair —  it 
was  worn  in  a  straight  braid  with  a  black  bow  carelessly 

2 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

hitched  on  at  the  end  until  she  turned  it  up  into  a  bun  and 
said  she  wished  she  were  a  boy  —  short  hair  was  so  jolly 
much  easier! 

At  fifteen  Sally  painted  menu  cards  and  dabbled  with 
water  colors,  neglecting  to  dust  or  sew  her  seam  as  her 
mother  had  been  taught  to  do.  She  also  danced  and  de- 
manded an  evening  coat  and  French  perfumes  and  said 
she  would  like  to  stop  school  and  take  painting  lessons; 
anyway,  she  meant  to  marry  very  young  and  have  every- 
thing she  wanted,  so  what  was  the  use  of  mummy's  mak- 
ing her  learn  how  to  bake  things  or  render  down  suetl 
Sally  had  the  best  room  in  the  house;  she  naturally  gravi- 
tated to  it  and  stayed  there,  regardless  of  company's 
arrival.  She  had  more  possessions  than  Harriet  and 
Kenneth  put  together  —  people  always  gave  Sally  things, 
she  did  not  even  have  to  ask  for  them.  But  the  things 
Harriet  had,  she  earned.  With  her  earnings  she  bought 
queer  books,  so  her  mother  thought,  and  went  to  lectures 
instead  of  matinees  with  Sally. 

Sitting  beside  Sally  in  a  state  of  modified  rapture  Dean 
Laddbarry  glanced  sideways  to  watch  Sally's  adorable 
tilted  nose  and  curved  scarlet  mouth,  and  remarked  to 
himself  that  the  ruffles  on  Sally's  dress  were  crisper  and 
more  ruffly  than  anyone  else's  in  the  room.  To  Dean, 
Sally  was  nothing  less  than  an  angel,  a  divine  being  who 
occasionally  bestowed  a  smile  on  him  and  kept  him  trot- 
ting the  rest  of  the  time  to  do  her  bidding. 

Dean's  relatives,  who  lived  near  the  Little  House,  had 
long  ago  said  Sally  was  all  that  sa;ved  Dean's  running  off 
to  sea.  Sally  wanted  him  about,  and  so,  braving  the  title 
of  mollycoddle,  he  stayed.  He  was  a  nondescript  frec- 
kled-faced lad  of  seventeen,  with  honest  gray  eyes  and  a 
long  thin  face  —  just  a  good-looking  thing,  as  Sally  said. 
As  he  timidly  put  out  the  tip  of  his  little  finger  to  see  if  it 

3 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

could  touch  Sally's  she  gave  it  a  sharp  rap  with  her  fan. 
Dean  had  given  her  the  fan  as  a  valentine. 

Next  to  Dean  sat  the  only  one  really  intent  on  Harriet's 
essay  on  Hannibal  —  Kenneth,  the  youngest,  boasting  six 
years,  with  gentle  brown  eyes  and  a  thatch  of  flaxen  hair 
that  made  him  a  sissy,  so  Sally  declared  when  she  wished 
to  tease.  His  flaring  red  tie  and  white  collar  betokened 
approaching  manhood,  he  flattered  himself,  and  he  was 
trying  to  live  up  to  their  requirements  and  not  become 
sleepy  or  fidgety  even  though  it  was  way  past  bedtime  — 
past  ten  o'clock,  he  hopefully  imagined. 

Even  Kenneth  was  outgrowing  Densie's  limitations;  he 
no  longer  wished  to  be  caressed  if  he  had  a  bad  bump  or 
someone  hurt  his  feelings;  he  despised  the  titles  "our 
baby  "  and  "  my  little  one,"  and  had  told  his  mother  he 
wanted  to  go  to  a  boys'  camp  the  next  summer. 

On  Densie's  other  side  was  her  husband.  He  did  not 
look  his  thirty-nine  years;  on  the  contrary  he  had  a  boyish 
face  contrasting  with  Densie's  settled  countenance,  though 
she  was  two  years  his  junior.  He  was  a  well-built,  kindly 
featured  man,  a  tinge  of  gray  in  his  chestnut  hair,  and 
humorous  dark  eyes,  with  a  well-modeled  mouth  by  way 
of  contrast.  He  was  dressed  according  to  the  fashion  of 
a  clean-cut  American  business  man,  and  as  he  glanced  at 
Densie  his  brows  drew  together  in  annoyance. 

"  John's  one  fault,"  his  Aunt  Sally  used  to  say,  "  is  that 
he  shows  everything  he  thinks  —  he  cannot  control  that 
face  of  his,  more's  the  pity." 

He  was  thinking,  as  he  looked  at  Densie  and  remem- 
bered their  nineteenth  wedding  anniversary  was  not  far 
off,  that  Densie  actually  seemed  old!  He  hated  himself 
for  the  thought,  yet  it  was  emphatic  in  its  constant  repeti- 
tion. She  seemed,  very  properly,  the  mother  of  Harriet, 
Sally  and  Kenneth,  maid  of  all  work  in  the  Little  House, 

4 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

stay-at-home,  conventionally  religious  person  who  could 
make  frocks  —  though  her  last  ones  had  not  sufficient 
style  to  please  Sally  —  clean  house,  and  entertain  the  La- 
dies' Guild  of  Saint  Martha,  having  sat  up  half  the  night 
to  finish  her  poundcake  and  sandwiches!  Densie  be- 
longed to  the  old  school,  her  husband  realized,  his  brows 
still  knit  in  annoyance.  "  An  old  dear,"  he  added  quickly 
as  a  sop  to  conscience;  and  of  course  the  children's 
mother.  He  must  always  look  out  for  her  and  never  let 
her  suspect  his  treasonous  thoughts.  At  this  identical 
moment  Densie  was  saying  mentally,  "  I  shall  justify  my 
stand  to-morrow  —  and  then  begin  again.  I  will  not  be 
called  out  of  date  at  thirty-seven.  I  will  not  have  my 
family  ashamed  of  me  and  proud  only  of  my  cooking!  " 

John  turned  away  before  she  should  look  at  him.  He 
had  never  been  able  to  conceal  his  thoughts  from  Densie ! 
But  he  looked  about  the  big  school  hall  at  the  other  moth- 
ers and  fathers,  and  made  sharp  and  unkind  contrasts. 
"  America  is  the  land  of  progress,"  he  told  himself  as 
conscience  salve,  "  and  the  old  order  of  things  must 
change  — the  younger  generation  come  knocking  at  the 
door." 

It  was  picturesque  and  amusing  to  recall  older  times 
and  customs,  the  regularity  and  narrowness  of  the  life  in 
which  Densie  had  been  raised;  he  forgot  that  it  likewise 
applied  to  himself.  The  women  just  ahead  of  him  were 
smartly  gowned,  their  hair  dressed  fashionably,  a  sug- 
gestion of  perfume,  kid-gloved  or  beringed  hands,  and 
other  little  accessories  that  make  or  mar  a  toilet.  They 
seemed  like  girls  —  American  mothers  were  beginning  to 
rebel  against  age,  the  conventional  sitting-by-the-fire  atti- 
tude. They  were  ysung  as  long  as  they  could  make  the 
world  believe  them  young.  Their  husbands  seemed 
proud  of  them,  and  attentive  as  John  had  once  been  to 

5 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie.  To  all  outward  appearances  romance  had  not 
deserted  them.  And  if  they  borrowed  a  bit  of  rouge  or  a 
false  curl  to  complete  the  effect,  what  mattered  it? 

John  knew  he  contrasted  well  with  the  men,  that  he  was 
almost  as  youthful  looking  as  the  day  he  married  Densie; 
and  that  he  felt  infinitely  younger,  strangely  enough.  It 
seemed  incredible  that  here  was  a  serious-minded  seven- 
teen-year-old girl  of  his  graduating! 

He  applauded  as  Harriet  finished,  and  then  listened  to 
someone  sing.  He  supposed  Harriet  would  stay  at  home 
with  her  mother,  as  was  proper,  and  —  well  —  marry; 
most  women  did.  In  fact,  he  had  thought  very  little 
about  it.  He  took  another  glance  at  Densie,  and  found 
himself  frowning  in  open  disapproval. 

She  wore  an  old-style  hat  —  fit  for  a  grandmother,  he 
judged  —  and  a  black-silk  dress  that  was  homemade  and 
fastened  with  an  enormous  cameo  brooch.  Her  face  was 
an  unbecoming  red  —  she  ought  to  use  powder  with  dis- 
cretion —  and  her  white-silk  gloves  had  been  mended  at 
the  tips  while  her  boots  were  flat  heeled  and  unbecoming. 
She  really  could  have  been  called  fifty  at  a  passing  glance, 
even  if  the  dark-blue  eyes  had  an  undying  girlishness  and 
her  brown  hair  was  untouched  by  gray.  Still,  Densie 
would  dress  her  hair  in  morose  fashion,  as  Sally  declared, 
trying  to  correct  the  defect.  It  was  drawn  back  from  her 
forehead  and  twisted  into  a  hard  knot  with  ugly  hairpins 
carelessly  thrust  in  and  about  it.  She  was  stooped  be- 
cause she  had  worked  so  hard  —  so  unnecessarily  hard, 
John  Plummer  thought  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 
Why  will  women  insist  on  being  slaves  to  pots  and  pans, 
this  everlasting  beating  of  rugs  just  so  often  and  of  never 
being  able  to  hire  a  washwoman  that  is  satisfactory?  It 
was  all  a  part  of  the  foolishness  of  the  past.  If  Densie 
had  only  been  sensible  she  would  have  spared  herself  half 

6 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

her   pains  —  but    he    long    ago    stopped    remonstrating. 

"  If  you  want  to  kill  yourself,  my  dear,  I  am  sorry;  but 
I  refuse  to  perish  with  you,"  he  had  said  one  memorable 
spring  day,  coming  home  in  a  new  pearl-gray  suit  and 
Panama  hat,  preparatory  to  attending  some  business 
luncheon  and  finding  Densie  in  forlorn  calico,  pathetically 
wiping  down  ceilings  and  washing  the  tops  of  the  tall  old- 
style  windows. 

She  had  begun  to  feel  old  then,  as  she  paused  to  look 
down  at  him  from  the  top  of  her  stepladder. 

'  The  woman  was  sick  and  couldn't  come,"  she  had 
begun  in  self-defense. 

"Let  it  go!  Must  it  be  done  to-day?"  he  had  in- 
sisted. 

"  I  hate  to  get  behind  with  my  work.  Aunt  Sally 
taught  me  that  way."  She  had  been  watching  his  debo- 
nair self  very  closely. 

"  Have  it  your  own  way.  I  shall  not  be  home  until 
late.  Where  are  those  handkerchiefs  you  made  for  me 
—  the  ones  with  a  monogram?  I  found  I  had  nothing 
but  a  rag  when  I  reached  the  office."  He  flourished  it 
before  her. 

11  In  the  lower  right-hand  drawer  of  your  chiffonier," 
she  said,  standing  up  to  resume  her  work.  "  The  laun- 
dries make  rags  out  of  everything;  that  is  why  I  wash 
myself  when  the  women  don't  come." 

Without  answering  he  had  left  her,  telling  himself  that 
after  just  so  many  years  of  married  life  women  love  to 
become  martyrs ! 

Now,  as  the  exercises  neared  the  end,  he  felt  the  same 
glow  of  impatience.  He  had  always  provided  well  for 
his  family.  Left  the  heir  to  the  house  of  Plummer  & 
Plummer,  tea,  coffee  and  spices,  a  substantial  firm  of  in- 
tegrity and  prosperous  business,  he  had  managed  to  carry 

7 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

on  the  trade  fairly  well.  Of  late  the  profits  were  not  so 
large,  and  living  expenses  much  higher.  But  Densie 
knew  how  to  save  in  the  home  —  it  was  her  world,  that 
house  on  the  hill  crowded  with  old-time  furniture.  John 
had  not  stinted  himself  for  clubs  or  vacation  jaunts;  he 
needed  the  change,  he  told  Densie,  who  had  always 
agreed  with  him. 

They  were  rising  to  sing  America.  It  seemed  to  him 
it  took  Densie  longer  to  rise  than  the  others;  the  other 
women  were  graceful,  they  probably  danced  and  played 
golf,  and  had  breakfast  in  bed. 

Sam  Hippler,  his  Uncle  Herbert's  confidential  clerk, 
touched  him  on  the  arm. 

"  She's  a  right  smart  girl,  John,"  Sam  Hippler  whis- 
pered loudly. 

Some  people  smiled  in  amusement  at  the  old  man, 
John  nodded,  and  began  singing  the  second  stanza.  Sam 
Hippler  belonged  to  Densie's  world,  too  —  Sam  with  his 
old-style  black  coat  and  striped  trousers  for  business  and 
a  choker  tie  fastened  by  a  pearl  pin,  his  gold-rimmed 
glasses  and  his  withered  face,  his  fussy  inefficient  meth- 
ods, though  the  result  was  usually  all  right.  He  still 
insisted  on  having  a  high  writing  desk,  at  which  he  stood 
to  balance  his  books  or  write  his  letters.  Of  course,  John 
would  always  keep  Sam  Hippler,  though  a  girl  and  a  type- 
writer would  be  more  to  the  purpose;  he  had  promised 
his  uncle  he  would  do  so,  and  Densie  would  make  a  tre- 
mendous row  if  he  broke  his  word.  Densie  had  Sam 
Hippler  for  Sunday-night  tea,  and  made  the  children, 
much  against  their  will,  be  respectful  as  he  stumbled 
through  the  long  table  blessing  or  told  some  dull  tale  of 
his  early  days  in  Lancashire,  England. 

There  were  also  Maude  Hatton  and  Lucy  Parks,  the 
two  other  relics,  now. 

8 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

But  everyone  was  beginning  to  crowd  about  the  gradu- 
ates, and  Sally  and  Dean  began  to  find  their  way  toward 
the  door,  while  Kenneth  snuggled  up  to  Densie's  skirts. 
Kenneth  was  beginning  to  be  sleepy  and  his  mother  would 
see  to  it  that  he  reached  home.  Kenneth  never  asked  his 
father  for  anything  but  money.  Neither  did  he  confide 
in  or  appeal  to  him  for  sympathy.  Sally  was  her  father's 
favorite,  partly  because  she  was  beautiful  and  partly  be- 
cause she  knew  how  "  to  manage  daddy."  Harriet  was 
too  brainy  and  too  sallow,  and  the  boy  only  a  girlish  sort 
of  youngster  whom  his  mother  was  fast  spoiling. 

Densie  put  her  hand  on  Kenneth's  head.  "  Yes,  sonny, 
you've  been  very  good.  We'll  hurry  home.  Come, 
John,  this  child  is  half-asleep.  Oh,  Aunt  Maude,  I'm  so 
much  obliged  to  you  for  the  beautiful  pin;  Harriet  will 
thank  you  herself." 

Which  was  a  white  lie  and  she  wondered  if  Miss  Hat- 
ton  realized  it,  for  the  beautiful  pin  had  been  an  old-style 
twisted  brooch,  which  she  had  given  Harriet  in  lieu  of 
money  to  buy  something  new.  Maude  Hatton  had  sewed 
for  Densie  and  for  Densie's  aunt  when  the  latter  was  a 
little  girl.  She  was  an  eccentric  kind-hearted  spinster 
whom  everyone  considered  a  trifle  mad,  living  in  one  room 
of  a  forlorn  boarding  house,  sewing  by  the  day  for  those 
"  who  don't  want  style  but  strength,"  she  said  herself,  and 
with  the  sole  companionship  of  a  canary  bird  to  round  out 
her  existence.  Densie  had  Maude  Hatton  to  Sunday  tea 
also;  she  would  have  had  her  more  often  only  the  family 
were  too  obviously  bored.  So  she  sent  her  baskets  of 
food  or  pieces  of  cloth  for  a  waist  or  skirt  and  often  put  a 
bouquet  of  flowers  and  a  magazine  in  her  room  to  greet 
her  in  surprise.  Miss  Hatton  understood  the  situation 
better  than  Densie,  but  out  of  loyalty  she  remained  silent 
• —  except  to  Lucy  Parks,  Densie's  other  old  friend,  also 

9  4 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

belonging  to  Aunt  Sally's  day,  as  the  school-teacher  who 
had  taught  both  John  and  Densie  their  tables  and  had 
read  Peter  Parley's  History  of  the  Animal  Kingdom  to 
them  on  Sunday  afternoons. 

Miss  Parks  was  pensioned  now,  rooming  near  Miss 
Hatton  in  similar  isolation,  and  she  came  once  a  week  to 
the  Plummers',  only  to  be  mimicked  afterward  by  Sally 
and  criticized  by  Harriet.  WThen  Miss  Parks  was  sched- 
uled to  appear  at  the  Plummer  dinner  table  John  always 
found  a  downtown  engagement  to  keep  him  from  the 
pleasure. 

"  Mother's  old  seamstress  and  teacher,"  Sally  had  said 
with  the  insolence  of  fifteen  years.  "  Oh,  dear,  I  wonder 
if  we  can  ever  get  a  new  sort  of  friends  and  house  and 
start  in  again  —  just  as  if  the  others  never  did  exist." 

Lucy  Parks  patted  Densie  on  her  unfashionable  shoul- 
der; Densie  still  seemed  a  little  girl  in  her  faded  eyes. 
"  Your  girl  Harriet  is  bound  to  be  brilliant,  Densie;  your 
aunt  and  I  said  so  the  first  week  she  was  born  —  bound  to 
be  brilliant,  but  see  that  she  knows  how  to  keep  house  as 
well  as  to  write  essays  on  Hannibal.  Howdy,  John. 
Well,  does  it  seem  strange  to  have  a  grown-up  daugh- 
ter?" 

After  which  she  gathered  her  bottle-green  umbrella  and 
a  beaded  reticule,  both  of  which  had  come  out  of  the  ark, 
according  to  Sally,  and  departed  in  company  with  Maude 
Hatton  and  Sam  Hippler. 

Neighbors  began  speaking  to  the  Plummers,  and  then 
the  crowd  dispersed,  some  to  make  ready  for  the  dance 
and  refreshments,  and  some  to  go  home. 

"  Sally  wants  to  stay  for  dancing,"  Densie  said  as  she 
buttoned  Kenneth's  coat.  "  Dean  is  here  with  her,  and  I 
hate  to  say  no," 

"  Let  her  stay.     Isn't  Harriet  going  to?  " 

10 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Yes;  but  I  don't  want  them  coming  home  alone." 

"  I'll  stay,"  John  suggested.  "  You  go  on  with  Ken- 
neth and  don't  worry  about  us." 

Densie  nodded.  "  I'll  leave  the  key  in  the  box  of  gera- 
nium plants;  and  don't  let  it  be  any  later  than  eleven,  will 
you?" 

"  All  right,  lady,"  he  said  in  amusement. 

Densie  and  Kenneth  passed  ahead,  first  to  find  Harriet 
and  congratulate  her,  and  then  to  warn  Sally  about  not 
being  too  giddy.  It  was  on  the  tip  of  Densie's  gentle 
tongue  to  say,  "  When  I  was  a  girl  we  never  had  such 
graduating  exercises,  with  engraved  invitations  and  jew- 
eled class  pins,  expensive  dresses  and  a  string  orchestra 
to  play  for  dancing."  But  she  kept  her  thoughts  to  her- 
selif  as  she  piloted  a  rather  tumbly,  sleepy  son  in  a  rum- 
pled sailor  suit  through  the  crowd. 

Harriet  was  standing  with  a  group  of  teachers.  She 
had  never  mingled  with  her  classmates  and  had  been 
elected  president  from  standing  rather  than  popularity. 
She  gave  her  mother  a  superior  smile,  her  black  brows 
drawing  together  in  slight  displeasure.  Harriet  was  not 
chagrined,  as  were  John  and  Sally,  that  Densie  was  not 
in  fashionable  semi-evening  dress,  but  that  her  mother  was 
so  old-fashioned  and  "  uneducated,"  as  Harriet  was  be- 
ginning to  call  it — "  a  queer  little  thing  who  likes  Annie 
Laurie  and  has  her  parlor  curtains  looped  back  with  huge 
satin  bows  and  who  cries  when  someone  recites  Casabi- 
anca,  and  has  her  few  books  arranged  in  veritable  tiers 
on  the  drawing-room  table,  with  an  illustrated  edition  of 
Meredith's  The  Earl's  Return  topping  the  pile!  " 

She  was  afraid  her  mother  would  make  some  break  in 
speaking  to  the  adored  and  revered  teachers  who  had 
interested  themselves  in  Harriet's  brain  progress. 

1  You  did  nicely,  dear,"  Densie  began  timidly,  actually 

1 1 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

in  awe  of  this  seventeen-year-old  girl.       '  Your   father 
has  gone  after  Sally;  she  wants  to  stay  for  dancing." 
Then  she  nodded  at  the  teachers. 

One  of  them  said  to  her,  "  We  are  so  proud  of  Har- 
riet, but  we  expect  to  be  much  prouder  of  her  before  very 
long.  We  hope  that  you  and  Mr.  Plummer  will  not  in- 
terfere with  what  she  wishes  to  do.  This  is  the  age  for 
women,  and  Harriet  is  one  of  the  pioneer  vanguard. 
Have  you  told  your  mother  about  it,  Harriet?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  she  would  want  to  be  bothered,"  Har- 
riet said  with  reserve. 

"  Oh,  do  tell  her !  "  urged  another  teacher,  looking  at 
Densie  with  quizzical  eyes. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  the  social-service  school  in  New  York 
for  five  years,  and  I've  —  I've  been  working  for  a  schol- 
arship   " 

"  And  she  has  won  it!  "  supplemented  the  first  teacher. 
'  You  surely  cannot  say  no,  can  you,  Mrs.  Plummer  ?  " 

Kenneth  tugged  at  his  mother's  skirt.  Densie  felt 
bewildered. 

"  I  shall  talk  it  over  with  my  husband,"  she  said  with 
old-time  reserve,  it  being  the  first  proper  answer  coming 
to  her  mind. 

Harriet  smiled  again.  "  I  must  go,  mother !  I  want 
to  devote  my  life  to  educating  my  own  sex." 

At  seventeen  it  sounded  rather  amusing,  but  Densie 
concealed  her  sense  of  humor  with  a  smile,  and  after  a 
few  more  words  —  most  unappreciative  of  her  efforts, 
Harriet  thought  —  she  found  her  way  to  where  Sally, 
flushed  and  giggling,  was  surrounded  by  boys,  Dean  non- 
chalantly standing  guard  behind  her  chair. 

"  Oh,  mummy  dear,  I  haven't  dared  tell  Sis  how  splen- 
did she  was;  I  can't  remember  what  she  did  say  about 
Hannibal.  I'll  wait  until  daddy  makes  us  come  home, 

12 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  then  I'll  have  all  sorts  of  nice  things  made  up  to  say." 

She  tilted  her  beautiful  willful  little  face  up  to  Densie 
for  a  good-night  kiss.  Sally  was  in  truth  born  cuddled; 
love  to  her  was  the  same  as  bread  to  the  working  man. 
She  must  love  someone  and  be  loved  in  return.  She  drew 
Kenneth  up  to  her  and  hugged  him  prettily. 

"  Don't  be  late,  will  you,  Sally  dear?  To-morrow  is 
Saturday,  and  we've  lots  to  do." 

Densie  admired  her  daughter  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  I'll  see  that  she's  home  all  right,"  Dean  promised. 
"  Can  I  get  your  cab  for  you?  " 

'  Thank  you,  but  we'll  walk;  it  is  only  a  stone's  throw." 

Densie  unfashionably  left  the  schoolhouse  on  foot,  with 
Kenneth  half-asleep  yet  bewailing  the  fact  of  no  ice  cream 
and  cake  as  a  reward  for  listening  to  Harriet's  essay  on 
Hannibal !  She  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  husband  as  she 
left.  He  was  talking  to  Harriet  and  some  of  the  teach- 
ers; the  teachers  were  smiling  and  animated;  and  Har- 
riet, like  a  proud  dark-woodsy  creature,  aloof  from  the 
others,  stood  and  gazed  out  the  window,  seeing  only  her 
girlish  visions  of  conquering  and  reforming  the  universe. 
Harriet  was  like  a  sexless  sprite  with  the  mind  of  a  rusty 
old  savant  and  the  unfolded  heart  of  a  girl! 

Some  children  leaving  the  hall  jostled  against  Densie. 
A  woman  said  sharply:  "Be  careful!  Don't  crowd 
that  old  lady!" 

Densie  gave  a  choked  laugh  —  Kenneth  was  too  small 
to  notice  —  but  either  Sally  or  Harriet  would  have  seized 
upon  it  as  a  reproach  to  her  old-fashioned  self.  At 
thirty-seven  —  an  old  lady !  It  was  really  too  ridiculous. 
Her  kindly  little  face  was  crimson.  She  was  glad  John 
had  not  heard  her  so  specified.  It  must  have  been  her 
black  dress  and  hat,  for  she  still  wore  mourning  for  Uncle 
Herbert  Plummer,  who  died  the  past  winter.  She  began 

13 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

to  wonder  if  it  was  too  late  to  break  up  her  home  and 
begin  anew.  Was  the  time  past  for  her  to  catch  up  with 
this  younger  generation? 

Then  she  began  thinking  of  Harriet  —  five  years  at  a 
social-service  school  —  Harriet  would  be  twenty-two, 
Densie  forty-two,  and  John  forty-four.  Sally  would  be 
twenty,  and  Kenneth,  eleven;  Maude  Hatton  and  Lucy 
Parks  and  Sam  Hippler  very  old  indeed  —  perhaps  dead. 
She  considered  these  things  in  a  ponderous  fashion. 

Reaching  the  old-fashioned  gate  she  stooped  down  and 
carried  Kenneth  up  the  winding  path  to  balance  him  skill- 
fully over  one  hip  as  she  unlocked  the  door.  She  put  him 
to  bed  with  unusual  swiftness  —  Densie  never  did  any- 
thing very  quickly  because  she  always  took  infinite  pains 
—  and  came  back  to  leave  the  key  in  the  box  of  gerani- 
ums. She  did  the  little  chores  about  the  house  which  she 
could  not  have  enumerated  if  anyone  had  asked  her, 
"  Why  don't  you  go  right  to  bed?  "  The  drip  pan  under 
the  ice  box,  the  clocks  to  be  wound,  the  shades  drawn 
just  so,  the  waste  cans  set  out  for  collection  —  then  up- 
stairs into  the  bedrooms  to  turn  back  the  spreads  with  a 
loving  hand. 

She  came  into  her  and  John's  room  —  an  old-time  enor- 
mous place  with  high  gilded  ceilings,  windows  with  walnut 
cornices,  and  the  furniture  that  Aunt  Sally  and  Uncle  Her- 
bert had  given  them  on  their  wedding  day.  She  sat  be- 
side the  window  and  looked  out  at  the  soft  June  night. 
She  wondered  if  she  would  better  begin  her  retrospection 
now  or  wait  until  to-morrow.  She  could  not  refrain  from 
wondering  how  it  would  seem  to  break  up  this  home  of 
nineteen  years  —  she  was  impatient  to  get  at  the  actual 
destruction. 

Then  she  glanced  at  the  clock.  No,  she  would  best  go 
to  bed,  for  to-morrow  had  an  unusual  burden  of  cares 

H 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

brought  about  by  the  graduation,  and  when  she  was  alone 
to-morrow  afternoon  she  would  begin  systematically, 
after  the  fashion  of  a  prosecuting  attorney,  to  review  her 
own  and  John's  lives  and  decide  on  what  was  best. 

After  which  she  undressed  and  knelt  beside  her  bed  to 
say  the  same  timeworn  prayer  Aunt  Sally  had  taught  her 
to  lisp.  No  one  else  in  the  family  prayed.  It  was  like  n 
multitude  of  things  her  family  had  ceased  doing,  and 
other  equally  strange  ones  they  had  begun  to  do,  without 
her  consent  or  her  knowledge.  Just  the  old  lady  of 
thirty-seven  came  humbly  night  and  morning  to  ask  for 
everyone's  well-being  but  her  own. 

She  was  awakened  when  her  husband  returned  at  nearly 
one  o'clock. 

"  They  had  a  remarkably  pretty  dance,"  he  said  as  he 
lit  the  gas.  "  By  Jove,  I  never  light  this  stuff  but  what  I 
wish  we  had  electricity.  Beastly !  " 

He  threw  the  match  aside. 

"  Isn't  it  very  late?  "  Densie  asked. 

"  Well,  a  girl  doesn't  graduate  every  day.  Too  bad 
you  didn't  arrange  for  someone  to  stay  with  Kenneth." 

"  Oh,  I  wanted  to  come  home.  I  saw  Harriet  receive 
her  diploma." 

"  Quite  an  essay,  the  teachers  say.  Did  she  tell  you 
about  the  scholarship?  Remarkably  quiet  about  it, 
wasn't  she?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  there  was  such  a  school." 

"  Nor  I.  What  a  lot  of  new  things  there  are  —  eh, 
Densie?  Even  in  our  day  it  was  different  from  Aunt 
Sally's.  Well,  shall  we  let  her  go?  " 

Densie  smiled.  "  I'm  afraid  she  will  go  with  or  with- 
out anyone's  letting  her." 

At  which  John  bridled. 

"  Nonsense !     A  girl's  place  is  home  —  unless  her  par- 

15 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ents  see  fit  to  let  her  go  away.  I've  no  objection  to  hav- 
ing her  try  it.  She  will  be  glad  to  come  back  inside  of  six 
months  and  be  —  well  —  be  —  be  at  home,"  he  ended  in 
helpless  masculine  confusion. 

Densie  did  not  contradict;  she  was  thinking  of  to- 
morrow and  her  own  personally  conducted  tour  into  the 
past  —  and  future. 

"  Don't  forget  to  look  in  at  Kenneth,"  she  said  politely, 
"  and  see  if  he  is  covered.  He  coughed  all  morning,  I 
noticed." 


16 


II 

After  Saturday  luncheon  Densie  drew  the  front  shades 
and  departed  for  the  attic.  After  all,  the  attic  is  the 
proper  place  to  become  retrospective.  What  else  can  so 
inspire  and  remind  one  of  the  past? 

She  had  done  her  Sunday  baking  and  her  Sunday  mar- 
keting while  the  girls  had  supposedly  cleaned  the  front 
parlors  and  set  the  library  in  order.  Their  own  rooms 
they  insisted  were  superfluously  clean,  and  as  there  was  a 
class  picnic  for  Harriet  to  attend  and  a  sewing  club  for 
Sally,  while  Kenneth  went  to  play  at  a  neighbor's,  and 
John  was  out  of  town  on  business  until  Monday,  Densie 
was  unmolested  in  her  planning  of  the  revolution. 

She  ran  up  the  attic  steps  eagerly,  closing  the  door  with 
a  careless  bang.  It  seemed  good  to  be  alone,  to  be  able 
to  sit  and  think  first  of  herself  and  then  of  others  as 
affecting  her  —  not  of  others  first  and  of  herself  as  help- 
ing them.  As  she  glanced  about  the  roomy  old  place 
heaped  with  conglomerate  trash  and  treasures  it  occurred 
to  her  there  must  be  many  other  women  in  America  in  the 
year  of  1901  who  would  be  glad  to  come  to  such  an  attic, 
and  leaning  on  the  crutch  of  the  past  find  themselves! 
The  first  thing  Densie  decided  upon,  with  a  bit  of  a  smile 
on  her  firm  little  mouth,  was  that  the  only  place  for  the 
new  woman  to  plan  her  revolt  was  in  a  stereotyped  Vic- 
torian attic  bespeaking  the  old-school  wife,  mother,  house- 
keeper —  all  combining  into  the  phrase  of  "  unthanked 
drudge."  In  an  attic  one  gathers  irrevocable  evidence  of 
past  wrongs  or  misunderstood  deeds,  munitions  for  the 
coming  fight  of  reform  and  reconstruction. 

17 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

She  drew  up  a  rocking-chair,  an  old-style  black-walnut 
monstrosity  that  had  belonged  to  Aunt  Sally's  mother, 
and  sitting  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  the  June  air  making 
her  slightly  languid  even  as  to  thoughts,  she  began  to 
re-live  the  past. 

She  was  a  pretty  thing  in  her  quaint  way  as  she  sat  there 
rocking  to  and  fro,  nodding  or  shaking  her  head,  smiling 
or  wiping  away  a  tear  with  her  reddened  little  hand  deco- 
rated only  by  a  plain  gold  wedding  band.  The  dark  blue 
eyes  had  turned  purple  just  as  if  she  were  in  a  novel  and 
were  half-closed,  their  thick  lashes  shading  the  exact 
expression.  Her  house  frock  of  crisp  blue  was  without 
style,  but  it  made  a  pretty  splotch  of  color,  and  who  ever 
heard  of  modishness  prevailing  in  an  attic?  Besides,  the 
long  skirt  hid  her  ungainly  house  boots,  which  her  daugh- 
ters laughed  at  and  urged  her  to  discard. 

The  entire  memory  was  like  a  delicate  painting  on  yel- 
lowed ivory !  She  began  with  the  consistency  with  which 
she  had  been  both  endowed  and  taught  from  the  very 
beginning.  It  was  a  rare  sad  pleasure  to  remember  it  all 
again;  she  wondered  if  many  women  did  so,  especially 
after  they  had  been  called  old  ladies. 

To  begin,  then:  There  had  been  two  of  the  most 
delightful  persons  in  the  world  —  Sally  and  Herbert 
Plummer  — "  just  as  if  they  had  stepped  out  of  a  story- 
book," Maude  Hatton  used  to  say;  and  though  they  had 
everything  else  in  the  world  they  could  desire,  after  wait- 
ing many  years  they  realized  that  no  child  was  to  come 
to  take  their  name  and  prove  worthy  of  their  love.  So  it 
happened  that  when  Sally  Plummer's  widowed  younger 
sister  Densie  died,  leaving  a  little  daughter,  also  Densie, 
Sally  and  her  husband  adopted  her,  giving  her  their  name 
and  loving  her  as  if  she  had  been  their  own. 

From  the  earliest  of  earlies  Densie  remembered  Aunt 

18 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Sally's  charming  self  bustling  about  in  order  to  make 
everyone  a  little  happier  if  she  could,  and  Uncle  Herbert, 
poet-dreamer  and  owner  of  a  great  and  mysterious  ware- 
house, to  which  she  was  taken  on  rare  occasions.  She 
recalled  some  of  the  thousand  and  one  beautiful  happen- 
ings and  possessions,  but  she  restrained  the  actual  memo- 
ries until  John  Plummer  came  into  Aunt  Sally  and  Uncle 
Herbert's  keeping  —  in  1870;  a  handsome  lad  of  eight, 
Uncle  Herbert's  nephew,  whose  parents  were  lost  in  a 
shipwreck  off  the  Bermuda  coast  and  who  was  welcomed 
by  Aunt  Sally  as  little  Densie  had  been  welcomed. 

She  remembered  hearing  her  aunt  say  the  evening  the 
news  reached  them  of  the  wreck  and  little  John's  survival : 
"  Herbert,  God  has  given  us  a  son !  " 

And  her  uncle  had  taken  Aunt  Sally  in  his  arms  and 
told  her  that  even  in  his  grief  he  was  happy. 

There  was  one  old  chair  —  why,  it  was  the  identical  one 
in  which  she  was  rocking!  —  that  had  always  held  a  vital 
memory  for  Densie  Plummer.  She  had  been  doing  spool 
crochet —  a  lamp  mat  for  Ellen  Porch,  the  hired  girl. 
There  were  hired  girls  in  those  days.  She  had  been  sit- 
ting in  this  big  chair,  her  copper-toed,  red-leather  boots 
in  a  horizontal  line  with  her  chunky  little  self,  rocking 
serenely  and  knitting  industriously,  wondering  if  Ellen 
Porch  so  much  as  suspected  that  a  lamp  mat  was  being 
made  for  her  benefit.  Aunt  Sally  came  bustling  in  —  she 
never  walked  —  and  stood  before  her,  her  pretty  face  all 
smiles,  and  tears  in  her  big  bright  eyes. 

"  Densie-daughter,  if  you  could  have  your  choice  of 
anything  in  the  world  —  what  would  it  be?  " 

Densie  had  drawn  a  deep  breath  —  she  had  been  a 
deliberate  little  creature  even  then  —  and  had  shut  her 
eyes  tight  until  they  crinkled  in  order  to  concentrate  prop- 
erly. After  wavering  a  long  time  between  black-lace 

19 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

mitts  like  Aunt  Sally's  best  and  a  baby  doll  and  a  pink 
cradle  such  as  Uncle  Herbert  said  he  had  once  seen  in 
Paris,  she  finally  let  mercenary  desires  die  away  and  the 
big  wish  of  her  heart  be  voiced : 
"  A  brother." 

Then  she  opened  her  eyes  to  see  if  Aunt  Sally  was  con- 
cealing such  a  personage  in  the  voluminous  folds  of  her 
peachblow  silk. 

Aunt  Sally  laughed,  striking  her  little  hands  together 
and  almost  jumping  up  and  down. 

"  You  shall  have  your  wish,"  she  said  like  the  veritable 
fairy  godmother;  "  a  real  big  brother,  named  John  —  a 
handsome  lad,  they  say  —  two  years  older  than  you ;  so 
you'll  have  someone  to  fight  your  battles.  Come,  let's 
go  upstairs  and  see  to  his  room,  for  Uncle  Herbert  has 
gone  to  New  York  to  fetch  him." 

Ellen  Porch's  mat  forgotten,  Densie  had  scrambled  to 
the  floor  and  dashed  upstairs  planning  to  place  her 
worldly  treasures  as  a  welcome  to  the  new  brother. 

As  she  had  heard  thirty-one  years  ago  of  her  new 
"  brother  "  while  rocking  in  the  old  walnut  chair,  so  she 
sat  rocking  planning  her  revolution ! 

Then  came  the  happiest  day  of  her  life  —  the  very  hap- 
piest. It  so  often  ocucrs  when  one  is  no  older  than  six  or 
seven !  Never  again  could  that  first  fine  careless  ecstasy 
return  —  nor  would  she  want  it.  She  would  not  have  the 
child's  innocent  faith  with  which  to  enjoy  it. 

It  was  on  just  such  a  warm  June  day  —  a  few  weeks 
after  John  had  come  to  them  —  and  Ellen  Porch  was 
doing  her  Saturday-morning  baking  while  Aunt  Sally  pre- 
pared to  drive  to  market  with  Uncle  Herbert.  Their 
red-wheeled  cart  with  its  two  fat  ponies,  Shag  and  Baba, 
waited  impatiently  at  the  curb.  Aunt  Sally  wore  a  wood- 
brown  wool  dress  with  regiments  of  funny  shiny  buttons 

20 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  a  bonnet  with  plump  little  roses  flopping  all  about. 
On  one  arm  was  a  huge  basket  and  a  beaded  purse  was  on 
the  other,  and  she  was  warning  Ellen  Porch  about  enough 
sweetening  in  the  pies.  Ellen  Porch,  tall,  gaunt  and  cal- 
ico clad,  was  arguing  a  trifle  —  Densie  could  not  remem- 
ber it  connectedly;  then  Ellen  Porch  began  to  declaim 
about  face  powder  and  cold  creams  and  said  that  the 
young  misses  were  greasing  themselves  like  sausages  and 
what  sort  of  skins  would  they  have  when  it  came  time  to 
wear  caps,  she'd  like  to  know. 

And  then  Aunt  Sally  had  looked  down  and  spied  Den- 
sie, and  said  with  one  of  her  quick  lovely  smiles  :  "  Ellen, 
I  believe  you  are  ready  for  an  assistant.  If  John  can 
have  a  pony  Densie  ought  to  help  bake." 

At  which  Ellen  Porch  grinned  and  agreed.  Then  she 
lifted  Densie  on  to  a  chair  and  gave  her  a  bit  of  dough 
and  an  imitation  rolling  pin,  some  cinnamon  for  ornamen- 
tation and  a  few  raisins;  and  Aunt  Sally  left,  promising 
to  taste  the  concoction  she  should  make.  As  she  sat  in 
the  chair  demurely  patting  the  dough  and  feeling  the 
world  was  really  the  heaven  of  which  Aunt  Sally  and 
Uncle  Herbert  talked  so  often  —  though  she  would  never 
dare  mention  their  error  —  she  looked  out  the  window 
into  the  kitchen  garden  and  saw  her  new  and  worshiped 
brother  John  astride  his  pony,  old  Barney  leading  him  up 
and  down,  John  in  a  brave  plaid  suit,  a  wooden  sword  at 
his  belt,  killing  vicious  lions,  which  he  declared  skulked 
about  the  lettuce  bed.  There  was  a  smell  of  roses  and 
honeysuckle;  and  the  hot  sweet  odor  of  Ellen's  cake  just 
turned  out  to  "  sweat,"  and  the  pungent  fragrance  of 
baking  bread.  There  was  the  clean  old-time  kitchen  with 
its  rows  of  pots  and  pans;  and  Ellen,  kindly  genius,  help- 
ing Densie  make  a  star  out  of  her  dough. 

Well,  she  did  not  know  just  wherein  lay  the  great  joy 

21 


—  was  it  John  keeping  guard  over  the  garden,  or  the  gar- 
den itself,  or  the  little  pat  of  fast  blackening  dough?  It 
was  all  of  it  or  perhaps  none  of  it.  She  knew  Ellen  Porch 
told  Aunt  Sally,  "  That  child's  eyes  were  stars  and  her 
cheeks  as  red  as  roses  —  just  over  a  mite  of  dough." 
She  had  thought  she  would  like  to  stop  living,  to  have  her- 
self and  John  and  Ellen  —  and  the  dough  —  all  step  into 
a  picture  frame  and  stay  just  so;  and  have  Aunt  Sally  and 
Uncle  Herbert  come  and  coax  them  to  step  out;  and  per- 
haps, if  they  felt  very  badly  about  the  matter,  they  might 
do  so  after  they  had  become  too  happy  to  be  able  to  stand 
still  in  the  frame ! 

That  day  of  all  days  — her  very  wedding  day  even, 
and  the  birth  of  the  children  —  stood  out  in  Densie's 
memory.  She  had  known  the  joy  of  the  very  heights. 
Scattered  —  like  raisins  through  a  pudding,  as  she  whim- 
sically fancied  —  were  other  momentous  occasions. 
Ranking  in  sharp  contrast  with  the  supreme  joy  was  the 
time  John  confided  that  he  was  about  to  die  —  it  must 
have  been  a  year  or  so  later;  he  knew  he  was  going  to 
die,  and  he  left  her  his  sword,  his  love  and  his  speckled 
hen !  At  which  Densie  tore  into  the  house  to  upset  Aunt 
Sally's  sacred  whist  club  with  the  news  — "  John  is  a-dyin' 
in  the  shed !  "  Followed  by  a  stampede  of  rustling  silk 
petticoats  and  tapping  feet  to  where  John  lay  in  state, 
groaning  in  agony. 

After  he  had  been  brought,  muddy  boots  and  all,  into 
the  drawing-room  and  lay  on  Aunt  Sally's  lap  Ellen  Porch 
stalked  in  to  dispel  the  threatened  tragedy.  In  one  hand 
was  that  dread  and  familiar  bottle ;  in  the  other  the  pew- 
ter medicine  spoon. 

'  Mis'  Plummer,"  she  said  briefly,  "  don't  get  upset. 
That  child  has  been  stuffing  himself  at  the  Wild  West 
Show.  Densie,  hain't  he  told  you  all  he  had?  Tell  the 

22 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

truth  !  He's  just  brim  full  o'  bile.  Set  up,  John !  Open 
your  mouth  quick  —  or  it'll  spill  on  the  carpet !  " 

"  Isn't  there  any  cake  to  take  the  taste  away?  "  he  had 
wailed  as  he  prepared  for  the  castor  oil. 

"  Quite  enough  cake,"  Aunt  Sally  answered,  laughing 
in  spite  of  herself  and  ordering  him  off  to  bed.  "  Den- 
sie,  I  believe  you've  lost  a  whole  year's  growth  —  you 
look  frightened  to  death.  Go  lie  down,  dear;  and  the 
next  time  your  Uncle  Herbert  takes  John  to  a  Wild  West 
show  I  shall  have  a  word  beforehand." 

Then  there  were  the  wonderful  summer  evenings  when 
Uncle  Herbert  hitched  up  the  ponies  and  took  the  old 
family  carriage  holding  a  quiver  full  for  a  drive,  everyone 
singing  hymn  tunes  or  Willie,  We  Shall  Miss  You,  and 
upon  their  return  lining  up  in  the  kitchen  for  milk  and 
drop  cookies. 

So  much  had  changed  so  subtly  —  where  had  vanished 
the  old-time  habit  of  blowing  tobacco  smoke  in  ears  to 
cure  an  ache?  It  had  been  almost  a  treat  to  have  an  ear- 
ache if  one  had  that  method  of  treatment.  Densie  re- 
membered sitting  on  Uncle  Herbert's  knee  of  a  Sunday 
afternoon  while  he  diligently  puffed  into  her  pink  ear  and 
said,  "  Better,  daughter?  "  turning  to  Sam  Hippler,  then 
a  dashing  beau,  to  continue: 

"  I  can't  agree,  Sam,  that  there  aren't  useless  miracles 
of  our  Lord.  Take  the  walking  on  the  water  —  what 
can  that  teach  or  inspire  ?  Call  me  heathen  if  you  like  — 
I  —  er  —  would  not  mention  this  to  Sally  —  but  I  can- 
not grasp  the  intent  of  the  miracle.  .  .  Now,  daughter, 
is  that  better?  Lay  your  head  down " 

And  Aunt  Sally  bustled  in  with  a  little  silk  pillow  for 
Densie's  brown  head,  pausing  to  say,  "  Herbert,  were  you 
mentioning  useless  miracles  of  our  Lord?  Out  with  it, 
Sam  —  you  two  boys  caught  talking  heresy  I  " 

23 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  At  least  admit  it  is  a  proper  topic  for  Sunday  after- 
noon," Uncle  Herbert  would  protest,  while  Sam,  whose 
whole  soul  was  concentrated  on  his  yellow  flowered  waist- 
coat, would  give  Densie  a  rakish  wink;  and  that  made  the 
ear  stop  aching  altogether. 

"  I'll  take  to  the  Pale  Jade  Mountains,  Sally,  dashed  if 
I  won't,"  Uncle  Herbert  would  tease,  while  Aunt  Sally 
in  her  summer  Sunday  frock  of  pale  yellow  would  admon- 
ish soberly: 

"  There  are  no  useless  miracles  of  our  Lord,  Herbert 
and  Sam.  It  is  a  sign  to  us  that  it  is  good  to  attempt  the 
impossible  —  just  as  he  walked  upon  the  water." 

Then  she  remembered  Aunt  Sally's  saying,  just  before 
her  death,  that  this  was  coming  to  be  the  age  of  purple 
plush  and  white  poodles  instead  of  lavender  lawn  and 
little  children.  For  some  reason  the  two  sayings  struck 
her  forcibly  just  now.  Aunt  Sally's  spirit  seemed  to 
hover  over  the  attic  —  helping  her  to  remember  so  vividly 
that  it  almost  seemed  reality.  She  could  even  recall  the 
smell  of  the  eau  de  cologne  that  Aunt  Sally  used  on  Sun- 
days or  for  parties  —  perfumes  were  not  considered 
proper  for  every  day.  But  then  —  there  had  been  gen- 
tlewomen then,  and  not  genteel ! 

Uncle  Herbert  seemed  standing  in  the  doorway  saying, 
'  Well,  children,  shall  I  tell  you  all  about  the  broom- 
squires?     Sure  you  won't  be  afraiJ  when  you  go  to  sleep  ? 
Your  aunt  said  I  must  not  tell  you  about  them  any  more." 

At  which  they  would  fling  themselves  at  him,  demand- 
ing the  tales  of  English  broomsquires  and  their  mysterious 
thatched  huts  on  lonely  moors  —  no  matter  if  they  shud- 
dered themselves  to  sleep  in  stoical  silence. 

Or  Uncle  Herbert's  Latin  phrases  when  he  wished  to 
be  impressive  —  Aunt  Sally  was  quite  proud  of  them  — 
his  de  giistibus  non  est  disputandum  when  something  with 

24 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

which  he  disagreed  came  to  his  notice;  or  semper  paratus 
when  Aunt  Sally  met  some  emergency;  or  humanum  est 
errare  when  a  fellow  brother  fell  by  the  wayside.  He 
was  also  given  to  the  language  of  flowers  and  gems,  the 
names  and  origins  of  states  and  territories,  and  was  even 
guilty  of  trying  to  conduct  the  postage-stamp  flirtation 
with  Aunt  Sally  when  away  on  a  business  trip ! 

His  favorite  way  of  teasing  Aunt  Sally  was  in  answer- 
ing her  questions  as  to  the  prospect  of  to-morrow's 
weather,  for  he  would  invariably  begin  Doctor  Jenner's: 

The  hollow  winds  begin  to  blow, 
The  clouds  look  black,  the  glass  is  low. 
And  soot  falls  down,  the  spaniels  sleep, 
And  spiders  from  their  cobwebs  peep. 
Last  night  the  sun  went  pale  to  bed, 
The  moon  in  halos  hid  her  head, 
The  boding  shepherd  heaves  a  sigh, 
For  see,  a  rainbow  spans  the  sky. 
The  walls  are  damp,  the  ditches  smell, 
Closed  is  the  pink-eyed  pimpernel. 
Hark!     How  the  chairs  and  tables  crack. 
Old  Betty's  bones  are  on  the  rack. 

And  so  on  to : 

My  dog's  so  altered  in  his  taste  — 
Quits  mutton  bones  on  grass  to  feast. 
And  see,  yon  rocks  how  odd  their  flight! 
And  see,  precipitate  the  fall 
As  if  they  felt  the  piercing  ball! 
'Twill  surely  rain,  I  see  with  sorrow! 
Our  jaunt  must  be  put  off  to-morrow! 

"  I  take  it,"  Aunt  Sally  would  say,  her  mouth  twitching 
with  amused  impatience,  "  you  think  we  ought  not  to  go  1  " 

25 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Yet  Herbert  and  Sally  Plummer  had  been  Darby  and 
Joan  to  the  end,  Sally  a  keen-minded  woman  of  charm 
and  brains,  a  housewife  first  and  last,  but  with  rare  under- 
standing of  the  world  and  its  ways  —  the  world  of  her 
time,  however.  In  the  two  children,  John  and  Densie, 
utterly  different  yet  equally  interesting,  she  had  found  her 
greatest  joy. 

Their  house,  The  Evergreens,  had  been  a  square  red- 
brick affair  with  numerous  green  shutters,  pine  trees  clos- 
ing in  on  four  sides,  leaving  only  a  narrow  flagstone  walk 
by  way  of  entrance.  It  had  been  a  wedding  gift  to  Aunt 
Sally  from  her  parents,  and  was  situated  in  what  was  then 
a  remote  part  of  a  growing  Eastern  city,  and  safe  from 
encroaching  commerce,  they  estimated. 

Their  ideas  in  house  furnishings  resolved  into  a  gen- 
erous compromise,  for  in  those  days  homes  were  large 
enough  to  permit  freedom  of  ideas  as  well  as  large  fami- 
lies. To  please  Aunt  Sally  there  were  long  mirrors  in 
black-and-gold  frames,  Dolly  Varden  lounges  with  plum- 
colored  damask  curtains,  endless  whatnots  and  china  shep- 
herdesses on  the  tall  mantles;  while  Uncle  Herbert 
boasted  of  his  Persian  vases,  a  rare  edition  of  Moliere, 
white-marble  bowls  in  which  he  kept  his  sentimental  bou- 
quets of  pansies  —  offerings  to  the  gods,  he  called  them; 
at  which  Aunt  Sally  retorted  they  reminded  her  of 
smacked  cats'  faces. 

There  were  old  satinwood,  mellowed  furniture,  carved 
sandalwood  boxes,  embroidered  fire  screens  and  crotch 
mahogany.  It  was  the  day  and  age  when  accumulating 
both  the  trash  and  treasure  of  past  generations  was  the 
proper  caper.  Crowding  into  steam-heated  apartments 
with  a  small  packing  box  in  a  janitor's  locker  was  an  un- 
known blight  on  civilization.  Densie  could  visualize  the 
long  entrance  hall  with  its  Adam  console  table,  Heppel- 

26 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

white  chairs  and  a  seventeenth-century  clock.  Black 
Wedgewood  urns  were  Aunt  Sally's  pride,  while  Uncle 
Herbert  comforted  himself  with  Whieldon  ware,  agate 
and  tortoise-shell  teapots  brought  him  from  the  Orient, 
and  which  he  kept  in  a  green-lacquer  cabinet  with  ormolu 
mounts. 

Three  things  about  The  Evergreens  impressed  one: 
First,  that,  though  it  was  spick  and  span  through  the  ef- 
forts of  Aunt  Sally  and  Ellen  Porch,  it  was  neither  stiff 
nor  formidable;  second,  that  a  generous  air  of  plenty  per- 
vaded even  the  four  stately  guest  chambers  with  their 
cross-stitched  towels  and  towering  wooden  beds;  last,  that 
no  pains  were  ever  spared  to  make  this  so  —  no  hurried 
modern  methods  of  cleaning  and  cooking  were  ever  tol- 
erated; that  here  was  all  of  Aunt  Sally's  life  and  career, 
to  make  and  keep  a  home,  just  as  Uncle  Herbert,  lovable 
dreamer  that  he  was,  looked  to  his  warehouse  as  his  sole 
raison  d'etre. 

From  Uncle  Herbert's  collection  of  white-jade  animals, 
which  he  gathered  on  his  wedding  journey  through  the 
Orient,  to  Aunt  Sally's  dining  room  glistening  with  old 
plate,  Jacobean  pewter,  blue-and-white  china,  luster  ware, 
and  the  cupboards  bursting  with  their  fat  jam  and  con- 
serve pots  —  the  house  was  a  home.  Outside  there  had 
been  a  gleaming  white  pergola  surrounded  by  splashes  of 
brilliant  color  and  clipped  bay  trees  at  either  side;  here 
blue,  pink  and  yellow  snapdragons  and  the  gayest  phlox 
in  the  world  were  made  to  bloom  for  little  Densie's  pleas- 
ure. There  was  a  lily  pool  aglow  with  loveliness  and 
glimmering  with  dragon  flies,  while  soft  yellow  roses 
twined  a  latticework,  with  the  sun  shining  down  in  ap- 
proval. Over  the  flower  garden  and  croquet  court  Den- 
sie  and  Uncle  Herbert  ruled  supreme,  while  Aunt  Sally 
and  John  commanded  the  kitchen  and  vegetable  garden, 

27 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  dovecot,  the  stable  with  its  fat  ponies,  and  a  certain 
antique  washtub,  where  John's  turtle  swam  at  leisure. 

Just  as  Aunt  Sally  looked  out  for  colds  and  hurts,  over- 
ruled Ellen  Porch  in  matters  of  housekeeping,  bought  or 
made  the  clothing  for  her  family  and  had  Sam  Hippler, 
Uncle  Herbert's  confidential  clerk,  tell  her  as  to  the  real 
status  of  the  business  —  so  Uncle  Herbert  had  seen  to  it 
that  John  and  Densie  knew  the  proper  fairy  tales  and  took 
them  on  woodsy  expeditions  and  to  the  pantomime;  in 
general  serving  as  a  court  of  appeal  when  Aunt  Sally's 
discipline  threatened. 

In  the  drawing-room  of  The  Evergreens  was  every- 
thing imaginable,  from  Uncle  Herbert's  flute  with  his  old 
music  rack  and  its  tattered  Italian  serenade  and  opera 
scores  —  he  was  one  of  a  quartet  meeting  during  the  win- 
ter season  —  to  Aunt  Sally's  square  piano  with  its  em- 
broidered cover  and  stool  and  the  Snowdrop  Waltz  or 
Ever  of  Thee  in  prim  invitation  on  the  rack.  There  were 
a  chessboard  and  backgammon  set,  an  open  fireplace  with 
a  pile  of  fagots  and  great  brass  firedogs  —  everything  at 
once  homey  and  delightful  yet  properly  in  order  through 
the  magic  of  housewifely  fingers. 

There  was  everything  in  the  way  of  art,  from  still-life 
paintings  by  Dutch  artists,  family  portraits,  war  engrav- 
ings of  enormous  size  framed  in  walnut,  to  useless  fancy 
heads,  bronze  plaques  and  dried  flowers  under  glass! 
There  was  no  definite,  maddening  scheme  of  things  to 
crowd  out  personality  and  swell  the  interior  decorator's 
bill.  There  were  horsehair  chairs  and  tapestry  chairs 
and  the  huge  leather  one  where  Uncle  Herbert  napped  on 
a  Sunday  when  both  sermon  and  dinner  had  been  a  trifle 
ponderous.  In  the  tall  bookcases  were  volumes  of  his- 
tory offset  by  frivolous  novels  concerning  wasp-waisted 
heroines  who  fainted  conscientiously  on  each  page;  the 

28 


latter  Aunt  Sally  read  the  year  she  graduated  from  the 
Young  Ladies'  Seminary  at  Athol  Springs,  Virginia. 
There  were  poetry  books,  Shakspere,  the  Bible  in  various 
editions;  Densie's  special  shelf  with  her  Dotty  Dimples 
and  Little  Colonial  stories  —  all  the  absurdly  virtuous 
infantry  for  her  rather  skeptical  blue  eyes  to  read;  and 
John's  special  shelf  containing  Rollo,  Sea  Fights,  Life  of 
General  Washington,  Tales  from  the  Alhambra,  Tom 
Jones,  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  so  on.  Everything  had  its 
fair  chance  at  representation. 

Massive  curtains  and  drapes  adorned  the  drawing- 
room  windows,  awesome  and  much  admired  when  Aunt 
Sally's  afternoon  clubs  met.  There  were  dotted,  frilly, 
ball-trimmed  things  in  Densie's  room  and  lacy  affairs  in 
the  guest  chambers,  while  in  the  apartments  of  Aunt  Sally 
and  John  were  amusing  crisscrossed  panels,  so  starched 
as  to  make  one  waken  with  energy  at  the  mere  glancing 
at  their  rigor. 

The  day  of  the  woodshed  and  the  fence  was  rampant. 
The  woodshed  was  where  John  had  his  trapeze  and  end- 
less flutter-budges,  as  Aunt  Sally  indulgently  called  them; 
where  the  neighborhood  boys  met  for  secret  pirate  clubs 
at  which  Densie  was  a  despised  and  rejected  member,  and 
where  the  (Id-style  appliances  for  the  garden  found  a  dig- 
nified resting  place,  where  Ellen  Porch  and  Barney  found 
time  to  exchange  the  gossip  of  the  day,  and  where  the 
trapdoor  opened  into  the  vegetable  pit  through  which 
John,  playing  kidnapper,  had  thrust  Densie  too  roughly  for 
her  peace  of  mind  and  her  white  apron.  Here  was  where 
John  carved  a  cradle  as  a  peace  offering  and  presented  it 
to  Densie's  youngest  "  child  ";  and  where  he  likewise  kept 
her  sitting  on  the  top  of  the  coal  bin  while  he  teasingly 
demanded :  "  Would  you  rather  be  a  bigger  fool  than 
you  look  or  look  a  bigger  fool  than  you  are?  " 

29 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

In  this  atmosphere  of  home  —  with  its  slowness  of  ac- 
tion resulting  in  a  sureness  of  result  —  the  two  children 
had  grown  up,  with  Aunt  Sally's  delightful  practicability 
and  wit  and  tender  heart  —  besides  her  wonderful  cook- 
ing !  —  and  Uncle  Herbert's  poetical  scholarly  self  as  ex- 
cellent guides. 

After  the  conventional  education  of  a  girl  of  her  time, 
so  carefully  shielded  from  the  world,  Aunt  Sally  took  Den- 
sie  just  before  her  sixteenth  birthday  to  the  Young  Ladies' 
Seminary  at  Athol  Springs  where  Aunt  Sally  had  at- 
tended, and  at  eighteen  John  was  sent  to  Europe  to  see 
the  world,  as  befitted  a  young  man  about  to  take  up  part- 
nership in  the  house  of  Plummer  &  Plummer. 

When  Densie  said  good-by  to  this  brother-boy  he  had 
whispered,  contrary  to  the  years  of  teasing,  careless  play: 
"  Don't  forget  me,  Densie.  I'll  have  something  to  tell 
you  when  I  come  home  —  if  you'll  let  me." 

She  must  have  been  rather  pretty,  she  thought  as  she 
recalled  the  incident  —  for  she  had  worn  a  creamy  flow- 
ered challis  and  a  broad  leghorn  hat  loaded  with  violets, 
and  John  had  taken  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her  gently, 
as  he  had  never  done  before. 

She  was  only  sixteen  —  a  year  younger  than  Harriet, 
who  seemed  a  child  in  all  save  her  books;  a  year  older 
than  Sally,  who  was  as  precocious  as  a  girl  of  twenty.  It 
seemed  a  lifetime  past  instead  of  a  matter  of  years ! 

With  John's  words  in  her  heart  and  the  memory  of 
his  strange  kiss  on  her  lips  she  had  gone  dutifully  to  the 
seminary  and  had  done  her  aunt  credit,  with  John  writing 
from  Paris  and  Berlin,  now  Florence,  where  he  waxed 
sentimental  and  proposed  way  ahead  of  time  — "  the 
young  scamp  !  "  Uncle  Herbert  tried  to  scold  —  and  from 
London  just  before  he  was  sailing  home,  after  he  had 
Densie's  little  note  saying,  u  I  love  you,  John." 

30 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

To  their  uncle  and  aunt's  delight  they  decided  to  wait 
until  Densie  was  eighteen  and  John  was  twenty  —  not 
unusual  ages  then  —  to  be  married.  Young  again  in 
their  romance  Aunt  Sally  began  the  usual  preparations 
for  a  wedding  while  the  usual  romantic  courtship  took 
place,  Densie  being  somewhat  of  her  aunt's  make-up  and 
John  a  trifle  of  his  uncle's,  tinged,  however,  with  a  more 
forceful  and  magnetic  personality  and  a  rare  personal 
beauty,  much  to  his  annoyance.  Densie  was  not  beautiful 
—  a  small  apple-dumpling  sort  of  girl  with  her  dark  blue 
eyes  and  thick  brown  braids,  tilted  delightful  features  that 
were  made  to  be  kissed,  John  assured  her. 

Aunt  Sally  and  Ellen  Porch  took  Densie  in  hand  -to 
teach  her  housekeeping,  housekeeping  from  the  front 
porch  to  the  woodshed,  from  the  fruit  cellar  to  the  attic 
cupola  and  all  that  goes  therein. 

"  I  want  you  to  be  able  to  stuff  raw  cabbage  with  coun- 
try sausage  and  have  it  taste  as  mine  does,"  Aunt  Sally 
warned  her,  "  and  cook  a  piece  of  brisket  until  it  tastes 
like  the  finest  cut,  and  make  bread  like  Ellen  Porch,  and 
do  up  your  winter  preserves  and  dry  your  corn  and  ap- 
ples—  those  things  are  tests  of  a  good  housekeeper. 
Never  mind  showing  me  a  woman's  parlor  —  let  me  see 
her  kitchen  waste  pail  and  I  can  tell  you  whether  or  not 
her  husband  has  made  a  mistake." 

After  Densie  had  accomplished  this  —  and  more  — 
Aunt  Sally  and  Uncle  Herbert  confessed  that  their  wed- 
ding present  would  be  the  "  Little  House  on  the  Hill  " — 
just  as  Aunt  Sally's  parents  had  given  her  The  Ever- 
greens. It  seemed  to  be  a  little  house  in  comparison,  and 
The  Evergreens  would  seem  twice  as  large,  now  that  both 
the  children  would  be  gone.  But  then,  as  Aunt  Sally  in- 
sisted, her  eyes  kindly  yet  misty,  they  would  be  back  at 
the  old  house  probably  more  than  was  good  for  them,  and 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

no  one  would  realize  they  had  really  set  up  an  establish- 
ment all  their  own. 

So  they  named  it  the  Little  House  whereas  it  was  a 
good-sized  brick  dwelling,  also  square  and  practical,  and 
built  on  the  hill  so  Densie  could  look  down  at  the  roof 
of  The  Evergreens  whenever  she  grew  lonesome.  Al- 
ready business  was  beginning  to  creep  about  The  Ever- 
green and  Uncle  Herbert  looked  aghast  at  the  incoming 
shops,  which  sold  hides  and  harnesses  or  made  cheap 
clothing,  their  owners  living  in  rooms  at  the  rear. 

Aunt  Sally  had  declared  she  would  do  nothing  toward 
settling  Densie's  house,  while  all  the  time  her  basket  of 
mop  cloths  together  with  Ellen  Porch's  awaited  her  pleas- 
ure in  the  woodshed.  From  the  time  of  Densie's  formal 
announcement  —  at  seventeen  —  she  actually  neglected 
The  Evergreens  for  the  settling  of  the  Little  House. 

Outside  the  Little  House  Uncle  Herbert  planted  a 
magnolia  tree  for  good  fortune,  and  a  garden  something 
like  the  one  at  The  Evergreens.  Inside  Aunt  Sally  did 
not  allow  him  to  be  admitted.  Every  room  in  the  house 
had  an  open  fireplace  and  a  cupboard,  and  the  walls  were 
tinted  instead  of  papered.  The  living  room  was  in 
bronze  and  gold  and  tawny  shades  with  stone-colored  cur- 
tains attractively  stenciled,  and  soft  carpets,  armchairs 
and  many  cushions,  samplers  framed  in  rosewood  to- 
gether with  family  portraits. 

An  upright  piano  of  carved  ebonized  wood  with  candle 
brackets  came  for  Densie  and  a  mahogany  secretary  — 
"  for  John  to  figure  up  Densie's  extravagances,"  Sam  Hip- 
pier  declared  —  while  odd  pieces  of  curly  maple  with  a 
hint  of  French  blue  in  their  upholstering  found  their  way 
quite  naturally  about.  They  named  their  rooms  —  it 
was  only  decent,  according  to  Aunt  Sally,  as  any  respect- 
able woman  names  her  child  before  it  is  twenty-four  hours 

32 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

old  —  Jungle  and  Peep  o'  Day  and  Moonshine,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  romantic  tendency;  a  step  in  advance  from 
North  Chamber  and  South  Chamber  but,  as  Aunt  Sally 
further  said,  "  I  suppose  in  keeping  with  the  age !  " 

Lavender  bags  found  their  way  between  the  piles  of 
snowy  linens,  the  shelves  were  filled  with  preserves  and 
there  was  a  good-sized  woodshed  in  the  Little  House  and 
a  white  fence  about  the  generous  yard. 

Then 

"  Mother!     Where  in  this  world  are  you?  " 

It  was  Sally  rushing  up  the  attic  stairs ! 


33 


Ill 

Densie  jumped  up  from  the  chair  and  pretended  to 
busy  herself  over  a  packing  box.  '  Yes,  my  dear.  Did 
you  want  anything?  " 

Smiles  and  frowns  all  in  one  Sally  bounded  into  the 
attic. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?  I've  shouted  my  head 
off  for  you.  Ken  is  home  and  hungry  as  a  bear,  and  so 
am  I.  Harriet  is  going  to  stay  at  Miss  Blake's  for  sup- 
per." Miss  Blake  was  her  favorite  teacher.  "  I  came 
up  here  " —  Sally  looked  her  most  bewitching  — "  to  ask 
about  the  dance  at  Nelly  Morgan's  on  Monday.  Dean 
wants  to  take  me." 

Densie  pushed  a  wisp  of  hair  back  and  wondered  if 
Sally  knew  how  her  hand  trembled.  It  is  hard  to  be 
called  suddenly  out  of  the  past  without  warning  and  to 
have  to  conceal  the  fact. 

'  Why  —  I  don't  know,  Sally,  you've  been  to  so  many 
parties  lately,  and  you  really  are  a  little  girl " 

"  But  everyone  goes,  and  school  is  out,  and  it  is  only 
Dean  —  you  know  you  trust  me  with  Dean.  I  promise 
not  to  stay  late." 

'  You  stayed  late  at  Harriet's  graduation.  I  told  you 
not  later  than  eleven  o'clock." 

"  But  that  was  father's  fault;  he  was  having  such  a 
good  time  he  wouldn't  come  away,"  Sally  dimpled. 
'  You  ought  to  have  stayed,  too,  mummy;  you're  such  a 
quiet  dear."  She  came  and  slipped  her  arms  round  her 
waist.  "Please  say  yes;  I'll  be  terribly  good,  and  go 
to  church  to-morrow." 

'  You  ought  not  to  be  bribed  to  go  to  church,  Sally," 

34 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  told  her  gravely.  "  I  went  to  church  because  I 
loved  it  and  it  was  part  of  my  life.  I  have  tried  to  make 
it  part  of  you  children's  lives,  but  I  seem  to  have  failed." 

The  curly  chestnut  head  was  laid  lovingly  on  Densie's 
shoulder.  After  all,  no  one  could  refuse  Sally.  She  had 
a  way  with  her,  as  her  father  said. 

"  I  know,  mummy  darling,  but  that  was  long,  long  ago 
— 'before  de  wah  ' — now  wasn't  it?  We  can't  always 
go  on  doing  just  the  same.  If  no  one  did  differently  we'd 
be  cannibals  just  as  we  used  to  be  —  wouldn't  we  ?  "  She 
raised  her  head  audaciously  and  laughed.  "  Your  eyes 
say  yes  —  there's  an  old  trump !  Harriet  is  smart 
enough  for  the  family.  I'm  just  silly  Sally,  and  I  have 
to  dance  —  I  have  to !  My  feet  can't  keep  from  tapping 
whenever  I  hear  music.  I  dance  in  my  dreams,  mummy. 
Didn't  you  ever?  " 

"Why,  no,  not  that  I  remember." 

"  Then  I  can  go?  And  you'll  be  a  perfectly  adorable 
angel-duck  and  finish  my  cherry-silk  frock?  " 

Densie  frowned.  "  What  is  the  matter  with  the  one 
you  wore  last  night?  " 

"  It  is  so  old-fashioned,  mummy.  I  do  wish  you'd  buy 
better  patterns !  " 

"  It  is  beautiful  material  and  the  lace  is  real.  My 
Aunt  Sally  had  that  lace  when  she  was  a  bride." 

"  But  Aunt  Sally  is  dead  and  gone,"  Sally  insisted  flip- 
pantly. u  I'd  rather  have  my  cherry  silk  even  if  it  is 
cheaper  —  and  have  it  made  like  other  girls'  dresses. 
Please,  mumsey,  I'll  do  the  dishes  so  you  can  have  time 
to  sew.  Oh,  I'd  like  a  different  dress  for  every  party!  " 

She  began  dancing  round  the  attic,  her  head  nodding 
joyously. 

'  Will  you  ever  simmer  down,  Sally,  and  apply  yourself 
at  school?  " 

35 


"Tra-la-la,  I  don't  know  nor  care  —  tra-la  —  Oh, 
mummy,  I  hate  attics !  Old,  musty  things !  Why  don't 
you  have  a  bonfire?  " 

Densie  smiled.  "  Perhaps  I  will.  Now  we'll  go 
downstairs.  I  did  not  realize  how  late  it  was  getting." 

"  But  you  will  finish  the  dress?  "  Sally  was  not  going 
to  descend  the  stairs  until  she  had  a  promise. 

"  Yes,"  Densie  said  briefly,  but  she  was  not  thinking 
of  the  dress  but  of  her  interrupted  retrospection;  she 
would  wait  and  finish  it  that  night  as  she  sat  up  to  sew 
and  wait  for  Harriet.  Densie  never  went  to  bed  until 
the  girls  were  home  unless  they  were  with  their  father. 
She  used  to  sit  up  for  John  until  he  began  being  away  so 
often  and  until  so  late.  She  had  forced  herself  to  grow 
used  to  his  absence. 

After  supper,  Sally  having  made  Kenneth  trot  to  and 
fro  with  the  dishes  and  then  rewarded  him  by  cutting  out 
soldiers  and  mounting  them  on  cardboard,  Densie  took 
her  sewing  up  to  her  room  and  prepared  to  finish  her 
retrospection. 

She  fitted  the  dress  on  Sally  first,  Sally  standing  impa- 
tiently first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the  other  and  twitching 
nervously  as  her  mother  dallied  in  the  adjustment  of  the 
flounces. 

'  There  —  that  looks  better,"   she   said   with  uncon- 
scious patronage.     "  The  silver  sash  just  makes  it 

Oh,  mother,  I  can't  wait  until  I'm  twenty!     Twenty  must 
be  a  wonderful  time!     What  were  you  doing  then?  " 

"  Harriet  came  to  me  at  twenty,  so  I  was  very  busy  — 
with  my  housekeeping  and  my  new  daughter." 

"But  you  had  a  maid,  didn't  you  —  that  Renie 
Smith  ?  "  Sally  smiled  at  her  pretty  self  in  the  glass. 

'  Yes,  but  there  is  a  great  deal  of  work  in  a  house  this 
size,  and  Harriet  was  colicky." 

36 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

u  Oh."  Sally  began  to  plume  her  skirt  and  try  a  dif- 
ferent angle  of  adjustment  regarding  the  sash.  "  I  want 
to  be  married  when  I'm  twenty,  but  I  want  to  travel  and 
wear  beautiful  clothes  and  just  be  admired.  Harrie 
doesn't;  she  is  terribly  queer,  mummy;  she  wants  to  do 
funny  things.  I  can't  understand  —  I  wish  we  didn't 
have  this  big  house  with  such  old-fashioned  things  in  it, 
don't  you?  " 

"  It  was  my  home,  Sally;  I  cannot  help  but  love  it." 

"  I  know,  but  we  haven't  hardwood  floors  or  electric 
lights  or  a  telephone  —  like  other  people  have;  and  it  is 
so  far  away  from  downtown.  I  should  think  you  would 
have  died  of  loneliness." 

"  I  was  happy."  Densie  unpinned  the  dress  and  took 
it  off. 

"  Thanks,  mummy." 

Sally  carelessly  kissed  the  tip  of  Densie's  ear  for  a  good 
night  and  pirouetted  to  her  room  to  try,  in  deadly  secret, 
the  effect  of  some  new  rouge.  When  she  was  twenty  she 
would  rouge  all  she  wished;  one  commands  the  world  at 
twenty  —  except  funny,  old-fashioned  mummies  saddled 
by  housework  and  babies  and  who  seem  terribly  ancient 
though  they  are  not  yet  forty! 

Sitting  beside  her  oil  lamp  Densie  took  up  the  threads 
of  memory  just  where  she  had  dropped  them.  She  had 
been  thinking  of  the  wedding  at  The  Evergreens  at  which 
Aunt  Sally  had  distinguished  herself  in  a  darling  com- 
bination of  black  satin  and  white  velvet  and  Uncle  Her- 
bert, due  to  his  emotion,  had  knocked  over  two  vases  filled 
with  flowers,  which  stood  at  the  head  of  the  bridal  aisle! 

They  had  gone  on  a  genuine  wedding  tour  —  New 
York,  Philadelphia,  Washington  and  Niagara  Falls  — 
Densie  in  her  going-away  gown  of  dove-colored  broad- 
cloth quite  hopelessly  labeled  bride.  She  made  a  quaint 

37 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

1882  profile,  all  pouts  and  tilts,  curves  and  fussy  little 
rosettes,  a  small  flyaway  love  of  a  bonnet  with  an  abrupt 
slant  and  a  discreet  high  coiffure,  a  white  mesh  veil  dotted 
with  black  chenille,  and  high-heele'd  bronze  boots,  Size 
Two  A!  Her  trousseau  had  been  in  keeping  with  this 
bridal  frock  —  even  as  John  had  been  the  properly 
sophisticated  young  husband  returned  from  seeing  the 
world,  and  boasting  of  a  high  silk  hat,  a  double-breasted 
green  paddock  coat  and  a  budding  mustache  —  all  proof 
of  his  worldly  experiences ! 

Returning,  the  Little  House  was  the  scene  of  a  proper 
housewarming,  after  which  John  and  Densie  settled  down 
according  to  custom  as  married  members  of  the  commu- 
nity and  followed  their  elders  in  the  matters  of  orthodox 
church-going,  a  Dickens  supper  club,  occasional  formal 
dances,  sailing  and  picnics  in  the  summer,  afternoon  calls, 
painstaking  housekeeping  and  sewing  and  charities  — 
with  Aunt  Sally  dressed  in  her  characteristic  black  satin 
and  ermine  tippet  driving  up  the  hill  to  call  for  Densie  to 
go  a-marketing.  Cakes  were  still  made  with  the  whites 
of  twelve  eggs  and  three-quarters  of  a  pound  of  butter, 
and  one  washed  one's  oilcloth  with  sour  milk  so  as  to 
preserve  it  properly  —  while  the  rest  of  the  home  and 
cuisine  was  conducted  on  an  equally  slow  lavish  scale. 

John  had  been  a  devoted  lover-husband  then,  doing 
well  in  the  business  and  affording  his  uncle  leisure  for  flute 
practice,  garden,  surreptitious  candy  making  during  Aunt 
Sally's  absence,  his  harmless  hobby  of  postage-stamp  col- 
lecting. Uncle  Herbert  spent  more  and  more  time  in  his 
study,  clad  in  a  scarlet  quilted  dressing  robe  and  balancing 
Southey's  Common-Place  Book  on  his  knee.  Sam  Hip- 
pier  piloted  the  youthful  and  daring  John  and  kept  busi- 
ness afloat,  and  Aunt  Sally  had  superintended  Densie  and 
her  little  world,  her  one  possession  being  a  pessimistic 

38 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

x 

faith  in  the  devil,  a  personal  devil  at  that,  who  was  men- 
acing civilization  with  his  modern  and  tempting  ideas. 

Then  on  a  memorable  June  night  in  1884,  Aunt  Sally 
had  returned  from  the  Little  House  at  midnight,  surpris- 
ing her  husband  in  an  arrangement  for  which  he  had 
fought  for  many  months  —  half  a  mince  pie,  an  ash  tray 
and  a  tattered  copy  of  Don  Quixote  on  her  best  tea  table 
—  while  she  told  him  that  John  and  Densie  had  been 
given  a  little  daughter,  "  bound  to  be  clever  —  long  black 
hair  and  well-defined  eyebrows.  They  are  to  call  her 
Harriet,  after  John's  mother,  which  is  quite  right,  though 
Densie  did  want  a  Sally  in  her  family." 

Harriet's  advent  brought  even  a  deeper  joy  to  the  fam- 
ily circle  than  had  been  before,  and  two  years  later  came 
another  daughter  —  Sally  this  time  —  round  and  dimpled 
and  given  to  much  excessive  laughter  for  apparently  no 
reason  at  all,  while  Harriet  was  still  a  pale  quiet  baby 
with  dark  glowing  eyes  and  "  bound  to  be  clever  "  her 
great-aunt  declared. 

There  was  no  denying  but  what  the  babies  narrowed 
Densie's  life  !  She  dropped  the  cherry-silk  frock  to  recall 
just  how  it  had  started,  just  when  John's  loverliness  had 
not  been  so  marked  —  business  engrossed  him,  men's  club 
meetings,  he  was  becoming  well  known  and  respected,  and 
his  interests  took  him  outside  of  his  home.  Besides, 
Densie  was  always  too  busy  to  go  places  with  him  or  to 
sit  and  talk  —  since  she  would  trust  no  nursemaid.  She 
would  make  a  slave  of  herself,  John  declared,  and  then 
finding  it  of  no  use  to  protest  he  joined  a  card  club  that 
met  downtown,  and  became  president  of  the  retail  mer- 
chants' association. 

It  was  then  that  Densie  realized  that  the  romance  of 
marriage  depends  upon  small  attentions;  whereas  court- 
ship is  such  a  stupendous  and  breath-taking  affair  that  it 

39 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

holds  nothing  but  prophecies  for  a  rosy  and  unreal  future. 
The  small  attentions  were  not  discontinued  all  at  once 

not  for  years,  to  be  fair  —  there  were  certain  pleasant 

customs  that  were  continued.  The  good-by  kiss,  the  wel- 
come, the  bit  of  a  nosegay  on  Sundays,  the  not  forgetting 
anniversaries  —  bane  of  any  man's  existence,  no  matter 
how  dearly  he  may  love ! 

But  married  life  became  a  shade  monotonous  to  John, 
and  to  Densie  it  seemed  a  never-ending  task  of  teething 
babies  and  cooking  meals  and  of  having  no  time  to  herself 
in  which  to  sew  or  read  or  dream.  John  was  far  from 
rich  —  Uncle  Herbert  was  spoken  of  as  being  "  just  com- 
fortable " —  but  he  was  too  much  of  a  dreamer  to  stay  so. 
And  Densie  had  been  taught  always  to  live  well  within 
one's  income  rather  than  beyond  it.  So  she  managed 
with  turned  silks  and  made  dishes,  which  take  time  rather 
than  expense,  and  when  the  carpets  were  turning  shabby 
she  hooked  rugs  to  cover  the  thin  places. 

It  was  in  1893  that  the  house  of  Plummer  &  Plummer 
suffered  a  temporary  failure;  it  had  been  an  old  house 
with  honorable  methods,  and  tea,  coffee  and  spices  its  line. 
Uncle  Herbert  refused  to  include  anything  else;  he  said 
he  did  not  feel  competent  to  do  so,  though  John  had  seen 
the  mistake  of  this  attitude  and  argued  hotly  against  it. 
After  a  very  uncomfortable  period  Uncle  Herbert  found 
himself  gently  slipped  out  of  harness,  so  to  speak,  free  to 
wander  in  the  study  and  garden  at  will  or  go  to  play  with 
Densie's  daughters.  Sam  Hippler  remained  in  charge 
because  Aunt  Sally  wished  it,  but  it  was  John  who  plunged 
into  the  business  in  a  new  and  forceful  fashion,  finding 
himself  engrossed  in  the  game  of  commerce  and  really  irri- 
tated by  petty  household  details.  He  had  an  opportunity 
to  enter  politics  —  how  well  Densie  remembered  the 
night  he  had  come  home  and  told  her !  —  and  how  glad 

40 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

she  was  when  the  successful  campaign  had  ended  and 
John  was  elected  assemblyman.  Ethics  had  become  a  tri- 
fle dulled  in  so  doing;  Densie  discovered  this  as  she  ran- 
sacked the  old  secretary  looking  for  a  bill  and  had  found 
others  that  quite  surprised  her. 

Politics  absorbed  John;  it  was  the  way  to  keep  his  busi- 
ness afloat,  he  said,  and  he  began  to  blame  his  uncle  for 
not  teaching  him  some  profession  save  selling  tea,  coffee 
and  spices  wholesale  and  being  too  highminded  to  "  cheat 
fairly  "  as  he  insisted. 

Harriet  and  Sally  had  started  school  —  as  different  as 
day  from  night,  even  then.  Harriet  all  for  books  and 
theories,  a  veritable  interrogation  point;  while  Sally  stood 
for  beauty,  the  mere  joy  of  living  without  questioning  the 
ifs  and  whys  of  existence. 

John  dropped  out  of  church  work,  he  was  never  free 
to  attend  or  else  he  was  too  tired,  and  Densie  shouldered 
the  double  burden  because  of  the  girls.  She  joined  a 
modest  sentimental  mothers'  club  and  substituted  sewing 
a  fine  seam  for  crochet  doilies  and  crape  tissue-paper 
work. 

In  1895  Kenneth  was  born  —  named  Kenneth  for  Den- 
sie's  father — and  that  same  year,  while  Kenneth  grew 
plump  and  rosy  and  his  mother  hardly  acknowledged  to 
herself  that  this  third  child  was  closer  to  her  than  her 
girls,  Aunt  Sally  failed.  She  was  more  timid  and  slow 
of  manner,  and  in  1896  she  went  to  sleep  as  it  seemed 
leaving  The  Evergreens  a  lonely  house  wedged  between 
foreign  rooming  establishments,  and  Uncle  Herbert  a 
mourning  child. 

Densie  knew  that  she  must  take  Aunt  Sally's  place  as 
well.  She  bravely  dismantled  The  Evergreens,  with 
twinges  of  memory  and  sentiment,  transferring  all  she 
could  of  it  to  the  Little  House,  fitting  up  Uncle  Herbert's 

41 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

two  rooms  as  duplicates  of  his  old  study  and  bedchamber 
so  he  might  feel  more  content  to  stay.  She  remembered 
she  had  had  a  dim  wondering  as  to  the  wisdom  of  this 
passing  of  fashions  and  customs,  and  as  to  whether  she 
belonged  with  the  old  regime  or  was  she  destined  to  hurry 
until  she  became  one  of  the  new?  John  had  shaved  off 
his  mustache  —  he  looked  a  boy,  he  was  told  at  the  club 
—  he  was  drinking  a  trifle.  "  Just  enough  to  be  sociable, 
my  dear,"  he  had  told  Densie;  "  you've  got  to  come  to  it 
if  you're  to  stay  in  the  game." 

They  had  sold  The  Evergreens  to  a  clothing  manufac- 
turer, who  gutted  the  inside  and  rebuilt  according  to  busi- 
ness plans.  Densie  never  passed  the  house  if  she  could 
avoid  it;  John  said  she  was  supersensitive,  and  the  chil- 
dren wondered  why  she  never  talked  about  when  she  was 
a  little  girl  at  Aunt  Sally's  without  crying. 

The  three  children  had  developed  along  individual 
lines,  Harriet  a  strange  scholarly  girl,  cold  of  heart, 
clever  of  head,  but  without  interest  or  aptitude  for  do- 
mestic interests.  Sally  was  eternally  bubbling  over  with 
the  joy  of  existence  —  unless  her  will  was  crossed  —  too 
generous,  too  intense  and  really  too  beautiful,  even  then. 
To  John's  annoyance  Kenneth  proved  a  gentle  girlish 
nature,  which  was  Densie's  secret  solace  and  delight. 

And  then  —  here  Densie  forced  herself  to  pick  up  the 
cherry-colored  frock  and  begin  work  —  Uncle  Herbert 
became  a  burden !  There  was  no  denying  it  —  saddest  of 
age's  punishments  —  for  he  began  to  dodder  about  ask- 
ing inane  and  inappropriate  questions,  meddling,  inquisi- 
tive, sensitive,  sulky.  Neither  Densie  nor  Kenneth  found 
him  a  trial,  but  the  girls  and  John  said  it  was  awkward  to 
have  him  about  and  it  would  be  a  blessing  were  he  taken. 
Only  Densie  really  bore  with  the  old  gentleman,  humor- 
ing his  whims  and  treating  him  as  gently  as  he  had  once 

42 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

treated  her,  shielding  him  from  impatience.  But  it  tied 
Densie  in  her  home,  since  paid  service  will  not  do  such 
things  for  feeble  old  strangers. 

To  a  great  extent  Densie  withdrew  from  the  church 
and  social  interests  and  John  began  to  gamble  in  stocks; 
there  was  a  good  chance  of  becoming  really  wealthy  he 
assured  her.  He  drank  rather  to  excess  now  —  in  a  dan- 
gerous, steady  sort  of  way,  and  was  actively  interested  in 
all  things  outside  his  home.  He  said  it  was  too  bad  Den- 
sie did  not  have  a  half  dozen  maids  — "  but  you  will  when 
I  make  my  ten-strike."  And  he  thought  no  more  of  the 
matter. 

Eight  months  before  Harriet's  graduation  Uncle  Her- 
bert had  died,  thinking  that  Densie  was  his  wife,  Sally, 
and  telling  her  that  "  white  pink,  canary  grass  and  laurel 
mean  your  talent  and  perseverance  will  win  you  glory,  my 
dear,"  gallantly  trying  to  kiss  her  hand. 

It  was  a  relief  —  more  of  a  relief  for  Densie  than  the 
others,  though  she  missed  Uncle  Herbert  as  time  went  on, 
for  there  was  no  one  to  whom  she  could  go  and  still  be 
petted  —  even  if  feebly  petted. 

Now  Harriet  had  won,  unbeknown  or  confided  to  her 
mother,  a  scholarship  for  a  New  York  social-service 
school  —  at  seventeen  her  daughter  was  convinced  she 
had  a  mission  in  life  and  was  planning  on  a  career  —  a 
trained  statistician,  aloof  from  contact  with  the  poor,  but 
with  a  cold-blooded  theorist's  ability  for  endless  figures 
and  undeniable  deductions ! 

Harriet  regarded  her  mother  as  a  nice  little  thing  who 
said  grace  before  meals  and  prayers  night  and  morning, 
keeping  Sunday  as  a  day  of  rest  and  worship,  and  who 
would  stir  her  lady  cake  a  hundred  times  just  as  Aunt 
Sally  had  taught  her.  The  Little  House  was  an  eyesore 
to  Harriet;  it  was  too  large,  too  absurd.  She  longed  to 

43 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

be  alone;  her  secret  plan  was  for  the  life  of  a  bachelor 
girl,  a  pioneer  feminist  —  and  to  Densie  she  was  a  clever 
but  cruel  stranger  who  had  strayed  far  from  her  tender 
heart. 

Densie  had  finished  the  little  dancing  frock  and  hung  it 
on  her  wardrobe  door.  She  looked  at  it  a  moment  - 
since  it  brought  to  mind  at  the  close  of  this  long  retrospec- 
tion the  fact  that  Sally  at  fifteen  was  an  equally  distress- 
ing problem,  always  in  disgrace  at  school,  where  she  could 
not  or  would  not  apply  herself,  besieged  with  boy  admir- 
ers, wheedling  whatever  she  liked  from  her  father  and 
spending  her  time  in  flippant  dressing  or  reading  highly 
colored  romances  and  running  off  to  matinees  with  her 
hair  dressed  like  a  woman's. 

There  was  Dean  Laddbarry.  "Bless  Dean!"  mur- 
mured Densie,  for  she  saw  in  him  the  elements  of  a  valua- 
ble man,  and  used  to  the  old-time  fashion  of  casting  ahead 
for  young  people  she  wished  they  might  marry  as  she  and 
John  had  married,  when  each  was  young  and  fired  by 
ideals. 

She  must  take  herself  to  task  for  the  general  condition 
of  unrest  and  estrangement;  she  must  change  with  the 
times  as  John  had  changed.  To  do  this  she  must  break 
up  the  home!  She  had  finished  her  thought  cycle  since 
she  had  justified  her  resolve.  It  was  very  clear  to  Den- 
sie just  what  had  brought  this  all  about.  John  had  the 
responsibility  of  his  family,  but  Densie  had  the  cares! 
Responsibilities  deadened  one  to  cares  and  cares  made  one 
noncomprehensive  of  responsibilities! 

Therefore  it  was  high  time  to  shake  off  cares.  Har- 
riet had  come  in  and  was  standing  in  the  doorway 
smiling  superciliously.  She  was  contrasting  Densie's 
weary-looking  self  in  a  house  dress  to  Miss  Blake's  well- 
groomed,  athletic  person  in  a  rose-silk  dress  and  a  rope 

44 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

of  seed  pearls.  Miss  Blake  was  forty-five,  yet  she 
seemed  a  girl.  She  had  a  pink-and-white  complexion  and 
hands  as  white  as  any  debutante's,  and  her  gray  hair  was 
always  marcelled  and  faintly  scented  with  violet.  Har- 
riet adored  Miss  Blake  —  it  had  been  she  who  had  urged 
Harriet's  aiming  for  a  career,  impressing  on  her  that  she 
was  meant  for  something  above  a  house  drudge.  Miss 
Blake  laughingly  admitted  that  she  never  darned  her 
stockings  or  made  a  cup  of  coffee.  "  I'm  a  bachelor  girl, 
Harriet  dear,"  she  had  said;  "  so  I'm  excused!  " 

"  Mother,  I  want  to  ask  about  New  York.  Miss 
Blake  is  going  there  the  first  of  August,  and  she  wants  me 
to  come  with  her  so  she  can  introduce  me  to  her  friends. 
Do  you  think  daddy  will  let  me?" 

"  Have  you  thought  well  about  it?  "  Densie  turned  to 
look  at  her  eldest  rebel-daughter.  "  It  is  a  grave  deci- 
sion; it  means  five  years  away  from  home.  We  thought 
you  would  stay  with  us  and  take  up  something  like  kin- 
dergartening." 

Harriet  smiled.  "As  if  I  could!  But  you  don't  un- 
derstand, mother;  it  is  all  so  changed  since  you  were  a 
girl.  I  must  go,  even  if  you  say  no.  I've  worked  alone 
to  win  the  scholarship  —  and  there  were  many  who  tried 
for  it." 

"  I  know,  dear,  you  were  very  brilliant.  Only  I'm  not 
reconciled  to  your  leaving  us " 

"  There  are  vacations,"  she  urged. 

"  But  daddy  isn't  rich,  and  things  cost  so  much  more; 
and  business  has  changed  too." 

Densie  loyally  forgot  the  club  bills  and  the  fiascoes  on 
the  stock  market. 

'  Well,  I  can  coach  someone  perhaps  and  earn  my  va- 
cation money.  I  don't  want  clothes  like  Sally  —  just 
plain  things." 

45 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  I  must  talk  it  over  with  your  father  Monday." 

"  But  if  he  says  no?  "  Harriet's  eyes  narrowed  dan- 
gerously. 

"  Would  you  disobey  him?  " 

The  old-school  beliefs  flared  up  in  Densie's  bewildered 
heart. 

"  Certainly!  First  of  all  I  am  a  human  being.  That 
is  what  Ibsen's  Nora  said." 

"  I  have  never  read  Ibsen." 

"  I  understand  that  you  haven't;  but  I  have  and  do,  and 
I've  the  right  to  my  own  life." 

There  was  a  pause,  after  which  Densie  said,  "  When 
would  you  want  to  go?  " 

"  The  first  of  August,"  Harriet  repeated  sharply. 

"  I  see.     Would  my  trunk  do?  " 

"  Splendidly.  Mummy,  can  I  have  all  new  underwear 
to  start  with?  I've  grown  so  much  taller,  and  Sally 
can  use  the  old.  She  likes  to  patch  things  with  lace  and 
embroidery.  I  want  plain  things  —  and  new;  because  I 
won't  have  time  to  mend." 

"  When  I  went  to  boarding  school  we  had  to  account 
for  every  missing  hook  and  eye !  " 

"  Boarding  school !  Mummy,  this  is  a  social-service 
course.  It  is  utterly  different."  Harriet  laughed  indul- 
gently. "  Miss  Blake  has  told  me  how  wonderful  it  will 
be.  She  took  a  summer  course  there  and  won  a  fellow- 
ship so  she  traveled  in  England  doing  research  work." 
Harriet's  eyes  glowed. 

"  Yes,  you  may  have  new  underwear,"  was  all  Densie 
answered,  turning  away.  After  all,  the  cares  will  not 
take  themselves  off  one's  shoulder  without  a  deal  of  hard 
pushing.  No  one  will  voluntarily  stand  ready  to  assume 
them. 

46 


IV 

Densie  and  Kenneth  practically  spent  Sunday  with  each 
other,  the  girls  going  to  some  friends  for  the  day  and 
John  not  returning  until  Monday.  It  was  with  a  sad  sort 
of  pleasure  that  Densie  ordered  her  son's  actions,  know- 
ing that  he  too  would  presently  turn  to  demand  his  own 
rights  of  speech  and  action.  Even  now  as  she  showed 
him  the  colored  Bible  plates  his  eyes  wandered  in  the 
direction  of  the  forbidden  pea  shooter  and  cardboard  sol- 
diers, and  his  answers  were  monosyllabic  and  lackluster. 

When  John  came  home  for  luncheon  the  next  day  — 
he  had  gone  directly  to  the  office  on  his  return  —  Harriet 
confronted  him  with  the  news  that  Densie  had  agreed  to 
her  going  to  New  York  in  August. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  John  began,  hardly  knowing  what 
to  say  and  being  engrossed  with  a  new  gambling  tangle 
which  promised  either  success  in  a  large  measure  or  dis- 
aster, "  I  suppose  your  mother  understands  what  is  best 
for  you.  We  thought  you  would  stay  at  home  with  us, 
Harriet.  It  is  such  a  big  old  house  it  needs  a  crowd.'1 
He  was  sitting  on  the  porch  smoking,  Harriet  perched 
on  the  rail.  Sally  and  Dean  and  Kenneth  were  quarrel- 
ing good-naturedly  over  croquet  on  the  lawn,  and  Densie 
was  within  clearing  off  the  luncheon  debris. 

"  It  is  too  big  a  house;  mummy  has  to  slave  too  much. 
You  cannot  get  help  as  you  once  could.  This  is  a  new 
order  of  things." 

Harriet's  patronizing  manner  was  most  amusing. 

"  No,  but  your  mother  will  not  stop  slaving.  I've  tried 
to  tell  her." 

47 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

John  felt  irritated,  yet  he  did  not  want  to  woo  a  do- 
mestic harangue.  He  paid  the  bills  and  that  ended  his 
part  in  the  home.  He  was  always  courteous  to  his  wife 
and  the  children  and  seldom  questioned  anything  trny  did 
or  said,  yet  he  was  becoming  a  stranger  to  them  though 
he  did  not  intend  it  to  be  that  way. 

"  You're  so  young  looking,  daddy,"  said  Harriet 
thoughtfully,  "  and  Miss  Blake  is  so  young  looking,  and 
mummy  seems  old.  Yet  she  isn't  old  —  she  was  married 
young,  wasn't  she?  And  she  has  never  read."  Harriet 
was  thinking  out  loud. 

"  Come,  come !  We  mustn't  criticize  our  betters." 
Her  father  dropped  his  cigar  into  an  ash  tray  and  stood 
up  hastily.  "  I'm  going  downtown  now.  Was  there 
anything  else  you  wanted  to  ask?  I'll  be  seeing  you  in 
New  York  next,  I  suppose,  when  I'm  there  on  business." 

"  It  will  be  heavenly !  "  Harriet  answered  with  unusual 
enthusiasm  for  her.  "  Think  of  not  having  to  bother 
with  housework,  but  study  all  I  want." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  when  you  marry?  Feed  your 
husband  with  Latin  verbs  and  French  history?  "  He 
smiled  down  at  her. 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  she  told  him  seriously.  "  Some 
women  are  meant  for  homebodies  and  some  are  not.  If 
I  were  not  interested  in  social  service  I  should  read  law." 

Holding  up  his  hands  in  mock  despair  her  father  went 
in  to  find  Densie.  Harriet  dropped  into  the  hammock 
and  began  a  delightful  vision  of  her  future,  her  freedom 
as  a  superwoman,  her  intended  reforms  yet  her  aloofness 
from  humanity  as  a  mass.  She  would  always  be  kind  to 
her  parents,  oh,  very  kind  —  and  to  pretty,  silly  Sally 
who  was  going  to  be  foolish  enough  to  marry  and  become 
a  work  slave  unless  she  happened  upon  a  millionaire.  In 
fact,  Harriet  planned  to  take  care  of  her  family  in  a  sense, 

48 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  send  Kenneth  to  an  English  school  so  as  to  make  a 
man  of  him.  She  felt  he  would  never  be  a  man  so  long 
as  his  mother  was  about.  She  would  also  read  every 
novel  she  wished,  revolutionary  or  otherwise;  she  would 
join  the  suffrage  movement;  she  would  not  go  to  church, 
she  would  deny  the  absurd  old  teachings  and  adopt  the 
new  ethical  religion  with  which  Miss  Blake  had  allied 
herself.  Musty  Bible  logic  was  only  for  past  generations 
and  helpless  orphans  shut  up  within  four  walls.  She 
would  dress  like  Miss  Blake  as  soon  as  it  was  possible, 
in  severe  yet  expensive  things  made  by  good  tailors,  and 
small  untrimmed  hats  which  cost  fabulous  sums;  and  she 
would  have  an  arts-and-crafts  ring,  massive  and  mascu- 
line, and  would  wear  no  other  ornament  save  a  watch. 
She  would  rent  bachelor  rooms  and  furnish  them  as  Miss 
Blake  had  furnished  hers  —  with  eccentric  colors  and  fur- 
niture, limp-leather-bound  books  and  Jap  prints.  She 
would  always,  always  live  in  New  York.  After  the  five 
years  at  school  she  could  easily  see  her  way  to  never  com- 
ing home.  She  could  never  stand  it;  she  must  have  free- 
dom to  cut  away  from  her  family  and  to  live  unhampered 
by  a  home ! 

Meantime,  John  had  surprised  Densie  in  the  act  of 
washing  dishes.  She  wore  a  blue  work  dress  and  her  hair 
was  a  trifle  awry. 

"Can't  the  girls  do  this  for  you?"  he  asked  gently, 
an  almost  dangerous  gentleness  which  betokened  a  guilty 
lack  of  interest. 

'  They  won't  do  it  my  way,"  she  explained.  "  I've 
tried  showing  them,  but  they  rattle  through  without  rins- 
ing and  use  my  glass  cloth  for  the  pots  and  vice  versa,  and 
Sally  has  nicked  every  china  dish  I  have.  I  would  rather 
do  it  alone  and  have  it  as  I  wish." 

"  It  seems  too  bad  women  get  so  set  on  methods." 

49 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

He  sat  down  at  the  kitchen  table  to  watch  her  painstak- 
ingly make  a  soap  suds. 

"  It  is  the  only  way  to  do  if  you  are  going  to  have 
system.  I  haven't  had  time  to  speak  to  you  alone.  Did 
Harriet  tell  you  her  plans?  " 

"  Urn.  Funny  youngster.  I  suppose  we  may  as  well 
let  her  try  it.  She  will  be  so  homesick  before  Christmas 
she  will  never  mention  it  again.  Fancy,  Densie,  telling 
me  she  never  intended  to  marry.  At  seventeen  you  and 
I  were  engaged,  weren't  we  ?  " 

He  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  table  and  smiled  at  her. 
He  seemed  a  boy  quite  out  of  place  in  the  kitchen  with 
this  slightly  faded  woman. 

"  Yes,  but  everything  seems  changing.  I  presume 
Harriet  knows  her  mind.  It  would  do  no  good  to  con- 
tradict her.  Only  I'd  rather  she  did  not  stay  away  for 
five  whole  years " 

"  She  won't  stay  a  year,"  her  father  declared.  "  She'll 
come  back  and  fall  in  love  and  make  a  bigger  goose  of 
herself  than  our  Sally  —  wait  and  see." 

Densie  shook  her  head.  "  Not  Harriet  —  you  re- 
member what  Aunt  Sally  said,  '  bound  to  be  clever,'  and  " 
—  she  drew  a  deep  breath  as  if  forcing  herself  to  repress 
emotion  — "  you  can't  be  very  clever,  John,  when  you 
have  babies  and  have  to  stand  over  a  cookstove  and  hag- 
gle with  shopkeepers.  It  wears  away  the  fine  edge  of 
keenness." 

"  Perhaps  women  will  come  to  be  more  sensible  and 
stop  working  so  hard  and  so  endlessly.  In  your  day  — 
or  Aunt  Sally's,  rather  —  there  was  nothing  else  expected 
of  them.  It  was  their  world.  And  it  is  the  same  in  busi- 
ness —  it  has  changed.  Sam  Hippler  would  not  counte- 
nance an  adding  machine  if  I  did  not  throttle  him  into 
accepting  it,  and  he  dislikes  the  modern  stenographer,  and 

50 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

automobiles  are  to  his  mind  odious  evidences  of  the 
younger  generation.  You  cannot  make  him  see  light. 
All  my  life  I've  been  hampered  by  an  old-fashioned  set- 
ting. I  would  sell  anything  from  canary  birds  to  shot- 
guns if  I  had  my  way;  and  if  we  had  done  so  we  might 
have  been  rich  to-day.  But  Uncle  Herbert  had  a  ridicu- 
lous notion  that  books  should  be  sold  in  a  book  store  and 
shoes  in  a  shoe  store  and  so  on " 

"  Still,  he  never  gambled  in  stocks,"  said  Densie  quietly 
as  she  began  to  wipe  the  glasses. 

"  Better  men  than  I  gamble  in  stocks."  His  face 
flushed  and  he  looked  at  her  defiantly. 

"  It  is  not  honestly  earned  money ' 

"  Don't,  Densie.  You  sound  like  a  motto  calendar." 
He  rose  abruptly.  "  I'm  off  now.  I  don't  mind  how 
you  run  your  house  and  children,  but  business  is  my  do- 
main." 

"  Aren't  they  your  house  and  your  children?  " 

"  Of  course  —  only  you've  always  taken  to  yourself  the 
authority." 

"  And  the  labor." 

"  And  the  labor,"  he  conceded  ungraciously.  "  But 
for  my  business  and  myself  I  must  ask  for  freedom.  I'm 
like  Harriet.  I  must  do  things  my  own  way.  If  I 
choose  to  drink  a  cocktail  and  plunge  on  the  curb  it  is  no 
evidence  of  degeneracy.  Come,  be  fair!  Be  as  old-time 
as  you  like  in  your  heart,  but  let  us  outwardly  keep  pace 
with  the  present-day  pulse." 

'Will  you  be  home  for  dinner?"  she  asked  awk- 
wardly, really  for  the  lack  of  something  more  appropriate 
to  say. 

John  took  it  as  a  rebuff.  "  No,"  he  answered  shortly; 
"  I'm  staying  downtown  to  see  the  end  of  a  three-cushion 
tournament." 

51 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Barely  brushing  his  lips  against  her  cheek  he  left  her, 
stopping  in  the  hall  to  gather  a  light  modish  overcoat  and 
a  Panama  hat,  which  he  rakishly  tilted  over  his  grizzled 
head. 

Sally  came  running  toward  him  and  hung  on  his  arm. 

"  Daddy  darling,"  she  began,  "  what  are  you  going  to 
do  for  me  since  you've  said  Harriet  could  go  to  New 
York?  Don't  you  think  I  ought  to  have  a  whole  scad  of 
new  dresses?  " 

"  Scad?     Is  that  another  of  Dean's  slang  words?  " 

John  looked  at  her  admiringly.  If  Harriet  was  clever, 
Sally  was  beautiful,  and  John,  like  most  of  mankind,  pre- 
ferred to  look  at  Sally. 

'  Yes  —  scad  means  six,  I  think.  A  white  organdie, 
a  pink  poplin,  a  yellow  silk,  a " 

Sally  kept  on  hugging  his  arm  and  laying  her  curly  head 
on  his  coat  sleeve. 

'  Why  don't  you  help  your  mother  more?  " 

"  She  says  we  can't  suit  her.  Mummy  would  let  me 
have  the  dresses  if  you  would.  You  know  I'm  going  to 
be  your  home  girl,  and  I  think  you  might." 

4  You're  only  a  little  girl,  Sally.  You  better  finish 
school  and  not  think  of  dresses  — " 

"  I  shan't  let  you  go  unless  you  promise  me  two  — 
the  pink  one  and  the  white  one,  please  —  daddy,  you're 
such  a  dear."  Sally  knew  how  to  tease. 

"  If  your  mother  says  so,"  John  finally  conceded,  bend- 
ing ^to  kiss  her,  "  and  now  please  take  yourself  off  before 
you've  borrowed  my  watch  and  chain." 

He  did  not  go  near  Kenneth.  A  barrier  which  John 
could  not  explain  existed  between  the  two.  The  boy's 
gentle  nature  irritated  him;  he  claimed  that  Densie  spoiled 
and  mollycoddled  him  and  he  would  turn  out  an  inefficient 
dreamer  unable  to  make  his  way  in  the  world.  It  dis- 

5* 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

pleased  him  really,  because  Kenneth  went  to  his  mother 
with  his  woes  and  avoided  his  father  as  much  as  possible, 
thinking  in  his  childish  way  that  he  was  a  handsome  brave 
person  who  despised  him  because  he  could  not  fight  the 
Kelly  gang  on  the  corner! 

He  left  the  gateway,  forgetting,  as  was  usual,  to  latch 
it,  and  left  cares  behind,  after  the  way  of  men.  Just  as 
when  the  panic  came  it  was  necessary  for  John  to  go  into 
politics  to  retrieve  himself,  and  Densie  to  do  without  a 
maid. 

That  night,  having  finished  her  tasks,  Densie  sat  up 
for  Sally  according  to  custom  and  glanced  through  some 
Sunday  papers  that  John  had  happened  to  bring  home. 
She  came  across  a  section  entitled  Woman's  Realm,  and 
this  she  selected  for  careful  consideration.  Buried  in  the 
accounts  of  beauty  culture  and  wardrobe  secrets  she  found 
the  report  of  an  address  that  was  delivered  by  some  emi- 
nent man  before  a  federation  of  women's  clubs.  In  part 
he  had  said  to  them: 

"  For  the  past  few  years  some  of  you  have  been  fever- 
ishly active  in  two  directions:  With  the  mechanism  of 
living  and  getting  a  living,  this  from  physical  necessity 
and  with  a  counterbalancing  mental  and  spiritual  antidote 
to  the  other.  The  habit  is  more  or  less  fixed,  and  I  be- 
lieve you  should  all  relax  for  a  time,  take  things  as  un- 
seriously  as  possible  and  get  all  the  joy  you  can  from 
merely  being  alive,  seeing,  breathing,  smelling,  feeling  in 
a  physical  sense.  If  you  could  accomplish  this  you  would 
recreate  within  yourselves  the  power  to  do,  which  has  been 
rather  used  up  in  these  other  directions.  No  one  realizes 
to-day  the  drudgery  that  falls  to  the  lot  of  conscientious 
middle-class  American  women  —  yet  no  other  class  pro- 
duces such  wonderful  men  and  women  as  a  result  of  this 
condition,  truly  the  backbone  of  the  nation!  But  is  it 

53 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

fair  to  these  homemakers  ?  Are  time  and  tide  going  to 
allow  this  condition  of  drudgery  and  care  to  continue 
unaided  or  are  we  approaching  a  new  era?  I  believe  in 
the  latter  —  and  advocate  it. 

"  The  sense  life  has  a  biologic  origin,  but  I  believe  it 
also  takes  on  a  spiritual  significance  and  function,  and  there 
is  a  profound  truth  in  the  old  Greek  myth  about  the  hero 
who  drew  fresh  strength  and  power  from  the  very  contact 
with  the  mother  earth.  When  physical  conditions  of  liv- 
ing are  not  to  one's  liking  there  is  a  great  temptation  to 
say,  '  Life  is  not  worth  living !  '  But  the  very  fact  that 
we  are  alive  proves  to  me  we  must  make  life  worth  living. 
Asceticism  is  essentially  wrong,  and  just  as  a  tree  must 
have  deep  roots  in  the  ground  so  our  spiritual  growth 
must  be  firmly  based  on  the  beauties  of  the  sense  life. 
Air  plants,  orchids,  they  are  rarely  beautiful  but  fragile 
parasites  after  all.  Remember  that  there  are  three  great 
imperatives  —  self-preservation,  self-perpetuation,  and 
finally  self-justification,  or  the  raison  d'etre.  To  achieve 
these  three  successfully  one  must  be  honestly  friends  with 
oneself " 

Densie  dropped  the  paper.  She  had  added  the  final 
plank  in  her  platform ! 


54 


The  family  accepted  the  rental  of  a  new  home  —  an 
upper  flat  and  extremely  modern  for  1901 — with  ap- 
plause. 

"  Sensible  little  woman,"  John  said,  delighted  at  the 
prospect  of  electric  lights,  hardwood  floors  and  the  near- 
ness to  downtown.  For  sometime  he  had  rebelled  at 
having  to  work  in  the  garden,  though  it  used  to  be  his 
greatest  joy.  He  would  now  be  able  to  sit  comfortably 
on  an  upper  veranda  and  view  the  passing  throng  — 
serene  in  his  lack  of  duties! 

Harriet  and  Sally  also  rejoiced,  but  for  diverse  rea- 
sons; Harriet  because  she  had  determined  to  leave  her 
family  except  for  compulsory  vacations,  and  she  had  a 
Puritanical  conscience  which  rebuked  her  and  made  her 
hasten  to  add  to  herself  that  she  intended  doing  very  nice 
things  for  everyone  at  home.  She  could  now  go  away 
feeling  more  foot-loose  if  mummy  was  in  a  cosy  flat  with 
hardly  any  work  at  all.  Why,  she  would  be  in  the  way, 
for  there  were  only  three  bedrooms ! 

To  Sally  the  flat  meant  less  work  and  a  more  preten- 
tious place  to  entertain  her  friends  —  particularly  her  boy 
friends.  She  planned  to  rig  up  the  attic  room  as  a  studio 
for  her  art,  and  it  would  be  very  glorious  to  be  able  to  run 
downtown  every  day  inside  of  a  half  hour.  She  planned 
also  on  waxing  the  floors  so  she  could  have  a  small  dance, 
and  she  would  make  her  mother  throw  away  all  the  old 
junk  and  coax  her  father  to  buy  modern  furnishings. 

55 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Only  Kenneth  did  not  enthuse.  It  meant  a  strip  of 
yard  shared  with  the  people  downstairs,  and  his  pigeons 
must  be  sold  and  the  croquet  set  given  away.  There 
would  be  no  place  to  establish  an  Indian  camp  or  a  Kit 
Carson  lodge.  Though,  boylike,  all  he  said  when  they 
told  him  of  the  change  was,  "  We  won't  have  a  wood- 
shed." 

The  old  friends,  Maude  Hatton  and  Lucy  Parks,  came 
to  help  Densie  pack. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  won't  feel  sorry?  "  Maude  Hatton 
demanded. 

*  Yes;  I'm  getting  too  tired  to  do  the  work  here." 

Lucy  Parks  cleared  her  throat  meaningly,  at  which 
Densie  hastened  to  add,  "  Of  course,  Harriet  is  going 
away,  and  Sally  is  a  trifle  young.  Besides,  she  seems  to 
dislike  housework.  Then  John  travels  so  much,  and 
Kenneth  and  I  are  left  here  alone." 

"  But  it's  breaking  up  a  home,"  Lucy  Parks  said 
gravely  as  she  looked  at  the  piles  of  things  awaiting  ver- 
dict from  the  secondhand  man.  "  Densie  Plummer,  you 
aren't  going  to  sell  your  Aunt  Sally's  old  warming  pan? 
I  remember  when  she  nursed  your  uncle  through  pneu- 
monia and  I  used  to  heat  the  iron  for  her.  Maude,  will 
you  see  this  extravagance  —  all  these  dresses?  There's 
enough  to  make  Sally  a  dozen  frocks." 

"  But  Sally  won't  wear  the  old  things,"  Densie  de- 
fended. '  Take  them  for  yourself  if  you  like." 

"  And  hats !  "     Another  pile  was  pointed  out. 

"And  books!" 
'  Sally  says  you  aren't  going  to  take  a  carpet!  " 

;'  We  shall  have  hardwood  floors." 

"  And  those  dishes  —  they  were  Sally  Plummer's  wed- 
ding set."  Maude  Hatton  held  up  the  cover  of  a  soup 
tureen  in  accusation. 

56 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  felt  as  if  she  had  riHed  a  shrine. 

"  I  know,  but  the  children  want  something  new  —  Jap- 
anese blue-and-white  things." 

The  old  friends  exchanged  glances. 

"  I  live  in  one  room,"  Maude  Hatton  said  to  Lucy 
Parks  that  night  as  they  walked  home.  "  So  do  you. 
But  our  hearts  don't  live  in  that  room.  Tell  me  the 
truth,  don't  you  spend  your  happiest  times  dreaming 
about  the  farm  or  Sally  Plummer's  house  or  your  moth- 
er's?" 

Lucy  Parks  nervously  assented. 

"  If  Sally  had  lived  Densie  would  never  have  done  this. 
I'm  afraid  she's  going  to  regret  it." 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  a  Plummer  living  in  a  flat  —  in  a 
crowded  part  of  town!  Densie  —  who  was  brought  up 
at  The  Evergreens,  and  who  went  from  there  as  a  bride 
to  her  own  blessed  home !  " 

"  There's  nothing  we  can  do  to  stop  it,"  Maude  Hat- 
ton  decided  philosophically;  "  this  day  and  age  is  not  one 
to  ask  advice  of  elders.  I'm  saying  that  Densie  is  giving 
up  her  home,  but  it  is  neither  her  own  inclination  nor  her 
fault.  She  looks  like  a  grandmother,  and  she's  a  young 
woman.  And  John,  bless  his  heart  anyway,  is  like  her 
son!  Does  John  spend  his  time  with  Densie?  No  in- 
deed; I  hear  of  him  —  he  has  Densie  saddled  down  with 
the  house  and  children  and  off  he  goes  skylarking.  Oh, 
nothing  wrong,  but  he  doesn't  seem  to  care  for  her  as 
Herbert  did  for  Sally,  in  that  steady,  settled  way." 

"  They've  lost  money,  so  Sam  Hippler  said." 

"  Then  it  is  John's  gambling."  Maude  Hatton  shook 
her  head.  "  It  hurt  to  see  the  old  things  laid  out  for 
sale  —  it  was  the  children  \vho  did  it.  They  are  all  for 
the  new.  Poor  Densie,  she's  her  hands  full  with  that 
family  —  particularly  Sally." 

57 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Harriet  is  quite  as  much  of  a  problem.  Kenjieth  U 
her  only  joy." 

Maude  Hatton,  who  Sally  said  spent  the  best  part  of 
her  life  sniffing  and  wearing  huge  black  bonnets,  sniffed  in 
disdain.  "A  lot  a  boy  cares  when  he  gets  him  a  wife; 
and  a  lot  a  husband  cares  when  his  wife  skimps  to  save 
in  order  that  he  may  spend.  I'm  telling  you  this  present 
way  of  living  in  flats  and  hotels  and  such  places  —  with 
the  mothers  younger  looking  than  the  children,  and  the 
grandmothers  younger  looking  than  the  mothers  —  it  is 
neither  fish  nor  flesh,  nor  good  red  herring!  " 

Sally  did  persuade  her  father  to  buy  new  things  to  some 
extent  followed  by  a  terrific  battle  with  her  mother  be- 
cause the  mission  furniture  sneered  at  the  black  walnut, 
the  new  rugs  were  disdainful  of  the  hooked  ones,  which 
Densie  stoically  placed  in  the  bedrooms,  deaf  to  the  tor- 
rent of  complaints.  The  steel  engravings  of  Lord  Nel- 
son and  General  Washington  were  quite  out  of  harmony 
with  red  passe  partouts  of  bulldogs  and  Gibson  girls,  and 
when  Densie  would  not  sell  the  piano  or  trade  it  in  for  a 
player  or  a  talking  machine  Sally  pouted  for  a  day,  and 
declined  to  take  any  interest  in  anything  but  her  meals. 

When  she  saw  how  white  her  mother  looked  and  how 
little  energy  she  seemed  to  have  left  she  repented  in  her 
quick  storm-sunshine  fashion  and  tried  to  do  her  part. 

"  It  isn't  as  if  we  wanted  to  be  known  as  the  ark, 
mummy,"  she  reproached  late  the  first  night  they  were  in 
the  flat.  "  You'll  come  to  see  the  difference." 

"  I  suppose  so.  But  after  all,  do  things  mean  so  much 
—  just  things?  "  asked  Densie  wearily. 

She  had  been  preparing  temporary  beds  for  her  family 
and  was  partly  relieved,  partly  disappointed  when  she  had 
a  wire  from  John  saying  he  would  not  be  home  for  a 

58 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

week !  It  was  so  much  easier  to  return,  smiling  and  com- 
plimentary, to  a  new  and  settled  household  than  to  endure 
the  discomforts  of  sleeping  on  the  floor  and  eating  off  a 
corner  of  the  sink! 

Sally  sat  up  in  her  cot  bed,  her  red-gold  hair  hanging 
round  her  face  in  artistic  confusion. 

'  Yes,  mummy  dear,  things  mean  everything  to  me  — 
just  as  ideas  mean  everything  to  Harriet.  Everyone  has 
to  have  something  that  means  a  great  deal  to  them  — 
don't  they?  What  means  the  most  to  you?  " 

Her  gold  eyes  were  wide  open  and  curious;  it  had  oc- 
curred to  Sally  that  underneath  this  upheaval  and  removal 
from  the  old  home  her  mother  must  have  some  definite 
motive. 

Densie  smiled.  "  I  don't  know,  Sally.  I've  just  given 
up  the  things  that  used  to  mean  a  great  deal  —  and  now 
I'm  going  to  find  something  else." 

Harriet  worked  more  conscientiously  than  Sally  in  the 
settling;  it  mattered  nothing  to  her  whether  a  picture  was 
hung  here  or  there,  a  certain  ancient  vase  placed  on  the 
mantel  or  an  old-fashioned  book  on  the  table.  If  Densie 
still  wished  the  curtains  looped  back  with  bows  despite 
Sally's  outburst  of  temper  —  Harriet  calmly  and  unfeel- 
ingly looped  them  back.  She  was  going  away  very  soon 

—  there  was  no  point  to  be  gained  by  arguing.     So  she 
was   a   temporary  comfort  to   Densie   even  though   she 
smiled  to  herself  at  the  rather  conglomerate  result  of  the 
moving. 

After  all,  one  cannot  stop  being  of  the  past  era  and 
become  one  of  the  new  without  a  reconstruction  period, 
and  Densie,  after  the  flat  was  settled  and  John  had  re- 
turned with  bad  business  news  and  rather  bloodshot  eyes 

—  Densie  found  that  the  people  eternally  tramping  down- 
stairs or  playing  on  a  talking  machine  or  having  late  card 

59 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

parties  annoyed  her  beyond  measure.     She  felt  as  if  she 
were  only  temporarily  located,  that  she  must  take  Kenneth 

—  she  always  thought  first  of  Kenneth  —  and  return  to 
the  Little  House,  opening  the  old  doors  of  the  big  front 
hall  and  breathing  in  its  heavenly  peace  —  and  cleanli- 
ness !     She  never  felt  the  flat  was  properly  clean.     This 
new  way  of  mops  and  dust  rags  saturated  in  oil  bewil- 
dered her.     Reaction  had  set  in.     The  sight  of  the  old 
belongings  jostled  together  with  the  new  made  her  home- 
sick.    She  had  to  admit,  as  she  sewed  on  Harriet's  under- 
wear between  her  other  duties,  that  she  was  still  too  emo- 
tional to  be  really  efficient  in  the  carrying  out  of  her  orig- 
inal intention. 

The  old  home  had  lent  a  certain  poise  and  dignity 
which  soothed  her.  Here  she  was  continually  contrasted 
with  the  woman  downstairs  —  a  bride,  though  nearly 
Densie's  age.  John  and  Sally  both  liked  Mrs.  Sullivan. 
She  knew  how  to  make  the  most  of  herself  with  her 
clothes  and  looks ;  she  was  always  pleasant  and  ready  for 
a  jolly  afternoon;  she  cooked  carelessly  but  lavishly;  her 
waste  can  made  Densie  long  to  take  her  to  task  even  as 
Aunt  Sally  would  have  done.  It  was  nothing  for  her  to 
throw  away  half  of  a  loaf  of  bread  or  half  of  a  stale  cake 
or  the  remains  of  a  good  roast.  She  was  fond  of  tele- 
phoning a  hotel  to  send  up  sandwiches  and  salad,  and  then 
she  would  make  coffee  and  thus  round  out  a  meal.  Her 
husband  adored  her  —  they  had  been  married  only  a  year 

—  and  life  seemed  cast  in  pleasant  channels  for  Densie's 
neighbor. 

Of  course,  there  was  nothing  to  worry  or  annoy  Mrs. 
Sullivan.  She  went  out  a  great  deal,  very  fashionably 
dressed,  and  wa*  even  talking  of  buying  an  automobile  as 
soon  as  they  became  a  little  cheaper. 

John  used  to  talk  about  her  to  Densie.  "  She's  such  a 

60 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

good  fellow,"  he  would  say.  "  I  can't  see  why  you  don't 
like  her.  Sally  does.  And  did  you  know  she  gave  Ken- 
neth a  plate  of  ice  cream?  " 

"Yes,"  Densie  would  concede;  "she  is  a  kind  neigh- 
bor, I  suppose." 

"  She  isn't  much  younger  than  you,"  he  would  begin. 

"  She  has  never  had  a  family.  She  has  never  worked 
in  her  life  except  in  an  office.  Her  house  is  always  un- 
clean   " 

"  Well,  it's  livable,  and  Sullivan  looks  well  fed.  Some- 
times I  think  housework  spoils  a  woman's  ability  to  enjoy 
life.  We're  asked  down  there  for  a  game  of  cards  to- 
night. Will  you  go?  " 

And  rather  than  seem  ungracious  and  refuse  Densie 
would  go,  wearing  an  old-style  dress,  her  hair  combed 
tightly  back,  while  Mrs.  Sullivan  in  frilly  white,  her  pretty 
hands  just  manicured,  a  suggestion  of  Parma  violets  about 
her  hair  and  skin,  would  play  partners  with  John  and 
make  great  eyes  at  him,  enjoying  the  discomfiture  of  her 
husband  and  of  John's  wife. 

After  they  would  come  upstairs  John  would  say,  "  Why 
don't  you  get  a  dress  like  hers  —  and  let  her  fix  up  your 
hair?" 

"  If  I  fit  Harriet  out  and  let  Sally  take  painting  lessons 
and  you  get  the  fall  clothes  you  say  you  must  have  — 
where  can  I  afford  such  a  dress?  I  will  make  my  old 
things  do  a  little  longer." 

During  the  summer  the  women's  clubs  were  suspended 
from  meeting  save  for  a  basket  picnic,  so  Densie  was 
stopped  from  her  intentions  of  joining,  but  she  modestly 
selected  the  Progressive  Thought  Club,  the  Opera  Read- 
ing Club  and  a  course  in  punctured  brasswork,  then  the 
fad,  as  her  winter's  program.  She  was  quite  shy  about  it 
even  to  herself,  but  she  used  to  lie  awake  nights  planning 

61 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

how  she  could  attend  the  meetings  and  not  neglect  her 
housework,  and  how,  after  a  little,  John's  business  would 
be  better  and  she  would  buy  some  new  clothes,  and  then 
he  would  be  proud  of  her. 

It  cost  a  great  deal  more  to  live  in  the  flat  than  at  the 
Little  House,  which  was  another  disappointment.  The 
Little  House  had  been  sold  for  a  sacrifice;  it  was  already 
mortgaged.  Somehow  Sally  had  more  friends  in  for 
small  parties,  and  John  felt  they  must  entertain  the  Sul- 
livans  and  like  people,  and  their  requirements  of  food  and 
ice  and  help  all  seemed  to  multiply  in  mysterious  fashion. 
Whenever  Maude  Hatton  or  Sam  Hippler  or  Lucy  Parks 
came  to  supper  the  children  would  fidget  rudely,  and  even 
John  was  a  trifle  curt.  Twice  he  made  Densie  telephone 
them  that  they  had  another  engagement. 

"It  means  so  much  to  them,"  Densie  had  protested; 
"  they  never  have  a  home  supper  except  when  they  come 
here." 

"  Then  send  up  some  stuff.  Maude  Hatton  gets  on  my 
nerves.  She's  always  quoting  Scripture,"  he  answered 
lightly.  "  If  it  wasn't  for  my  uncle's  wishes  I'd  have  dis- 
charged Sam  a  year  ago." 

Meantime  the  piles  of  underwear  for  Harriet  mounted 
high  and  snowy,  with  Harriet  marking  the  tapes  H.  Plum- 
mer,  in  her  firm,  cramped  little  writing.  She  sewed  as 
many  dreams  and  visions  into  the  fastening  on  of  the 
tapes  as  does  a  bride  embroidering  her  wedding  gown. 
Densie  suspected  that  Harriet's  extreme  obedience  and 
affability  came  from  the  fact  that  she  had  not  much  longer 
to  stay  at  home.  She  made  several  futile  attempts  to 
win  her  daughter's  confidence,  but  they  were  all  of  no 
purpose.  Harriet  was  polite  and  gentle,  even  very  ten- 
der with  her  mother  —  the  mother  who  could  not  under- 
stand; but  she  had  a  way  of  shutting  outsiders  from  her 

62 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

heart  as  if  she  actually  closed  a  well-barred  door  in  the 
face  of  a  would-be  visitor  in  her  home. 

With  her  father  she  was  remarkably  polite  and  aloof. 
John  rejoiced  in  the  fact  that  Harriet  never  bothered  any- 
one. Manlike,  he  saw  no  more  of  what  was  taking  place 
in  his  elder  daughter's  heart.  He  was  proud  of  her 
brain,  proud  of  the  scholarship,  and  he  thought  very  little 
of  the  years  ahead.  Of  course,  she  would  marry;  and 
that  was  all  there  was  to  it. 

Sally  was  a  more  direct  problem,  though  he  loved  Sally 
in  a  different  fashion.  But  she  annoyed  him.  He  had 
watched  her  unawares  when  she  was  downtown,  walking 
with  boys,  her  head  coquettishly  tilted,  her  eyes  spark- 
ling, the  finesse  of  a  famous  coquette. 

When  he  remonstrated  with  Densie  about  it  —  of 
course  he  came  to  Densie  —  she  told  him :  "  Why  don't 
you  talk  to  Sally?" 

"  She'd  bankrupt  me  for  a  frock  before  we  were 
through,"  he  admitted. 

"  She  is  only  a  little  girl,  and  she  ought  to  mind.  But 
since  I've  moved  so  near  to  downtown  she  cannot  be  kept 
from  going  there,  I  suppose." 

"  If  she  only  marries  the  right  man  early  enough,"  John 
said  soberly.  "  Now  Dean  Laddbarry  would  never  do. 
He's  a  plodder." 

Densie  lent  herself  to  Dean's  defense.  "  He's  Sally's 
exact  opposite,"  she  insisted;  "  just  the  sort  she  ought  to 
marry.  He'd  be  her  ballast.  Why,  I  would  take  Dean's 
word  before  I  would  Sally's  —  and  Sally  treats  him 
shamefully." 

"  Don't  go  match-making,  mother,"  he  teased.  "  And 
for  heaven's  sake  make  Kenneth  stop  being  a  mollycod- 
dle !  I  won't  have  it !  " 

"  How  does  Kenneth  displease  you?  " 

63 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  used  to  feel  as  if  he  were  striking  her  inside  — 
on  her  heart  —  she  had  so  many  of  these  complaints. 
John  reasoned  that  Densie  having  brought  them  up  she 
was  the  one  who  should  take  the  blame  for  displeasing 
results.  He  paid  the  bills  and  that  was  sufficient. 

"  Too  much  like  a  girl,"  John  declared.  "  When  he 
gets  into  school  he'll  have  it  taken  out  of  him." 

"  If  you  were  with  him  more  he  might  improve." 
Densie  was  partly  Scotch;  she  had  that  dry  humor  which 
makes  even  the  gayest  temporarily  ill  at  ease.  "  I'm 
afraid  he  is  hardly  acquainted  with  his  father." 

The  day  before  Harriet  left  for  New  York  she  and 
Sally  came  to  a  noteworthy  battle  of  words  which  Densie 
overheard  as  she  packed  Harriet's  trunk. 

"  I'm  glad  you  are  going,  Harriet  Plummer,"  Sally 
declared,  her  tempestuous  self  flouncing  about  the  room 
in  a  great  pretense  at  dusting,  "  for  you  think  yourself 
too  good  to  live  with  us.  Well,  when  you  get  to  New 
York  you'll  be  sorry  —  and  miss  mummy  —  and  the 
home.  You  don't  think  so;  you're  always  talking  of 
Miss  Blake  —  Miss  Blake  —  Miss  Blake !  Who  wants 
to  be  a  Miss  Blake?  She  looks  a  fright;  everyone  laughs 
at  her." 

"Indeed?"  said  Harriet  with  cold  insolence,  trying 
to  contain  her  rage.  "  You  ignorant  little  thing,  I  really 
am  sorry  for  you,  Sally,  for  I  don't  know  whatever  will 
become  of  you  if  mummy  should  die." 

"  Don't  you?  I  would  never  bother  to  write  and  tell 
you." 

Sally's  face  was  crimson  and  she  brandished  the  dust 
cloth  viciously  in  the  air. 

'  You  seem  to  have  no  brains,"  Harriet  further  an- 

64 


"  You're  deceitful  and  mean  and  selfish  —  1  '11  wager  you  fifteen  years 
from  now  you'll  be  a  wreck  —  a  wreck  —  a  wreck  —  " 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

alyzed;  "  or  else  the  brains  you  have  are  all  used  for  vain 
purposes."  There  is  nothing  like  youth  for  final  deci- 
sions. "  At  least  I  can  never  remember  your  ever  doing 
anything  that  was  at  all  worth  while." 

"Perhaps  not  —  but  I'm  not  sneering  at  my  mother 
and  father  and  going  to  New  York  to  turn  into  a  fossil. 
You  think  I  don't  see  through  you  —  well,  I  do.  You 
want  to  get  away  without  any  trouble  and  have  your  de- 
lightful career.  I'm  the  one  to  stay  home.  Well,  if  I 
don't  like  what  my  mummy  and  my  daddy  do,  I  out  and 
tell  them  so  and  we  have  a  big  row  —  but  I  love  them 
hard  afterward  and  we  always  kiss  and  make  up.  You 
hate  kissing  your  family  —  you  don't  even  like  to  have 
mummy's  fingers  in  your  neck  when  she  fits  your  dresses. 
You're  deceitful  and  mean  and  selfish,  and  you  needn't 
worry  as  to  what  will  become  of  me.  I'm  going  to  paint 
pictures  and  be  a  human  being  with — with  a  different 
dress  for  every  dance  and  lots  of  kisses  for  everyone. 
I'll  wager  you  fifteen  years  from  now  you'll  be  a  wreck — a 
wreck — a  wreck " 

Littly  Sally  completed  her  intentions  by  knocking  over 
a  pile  of  Harriet's  books  accidentally,  at  which  primitive 
instincts  were  stirred  in  Harriet  to  the  extent  of  for- 
getting her  scholarship  and  the  purchased  railway  ticket, 
and  the  two  sisters  became  on  the  verge  of  actual  combat 
when  Densie  appeared  in  the  doorway  to  act  as  mediator. 

It  was  a  relief  when  Harriet  left  them.  Densie  felt 
more  at  home  with  Sally,  selfish  and  unreliable  though 
she  was;  she  did  have  plenty  of  kisses,  and  in  her  warm- 
hearted way  she  tried  to  make  her  mother  less  trouble. 
Harriet  never  spared  her  mother.  She  would  do  a  share 
of  the  work  but  no  more,  no  matter  what  extenuating 
circumstances  might  arise.  After  she  had  done  her  tasks 

65 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

she  retired  into  her  own  world  of  books  and  thoughts  and 
cared  not  what  happened  elsewhere.  Emergencies  were 
no  concern  of  hers.  Sally  stood  ready  to  prop  up  the 
house  should  it  begin  to  fall  down ! 

Densie  never  could  understand  Harriet's  logic — which 
prompted  the  actual  blackening  of  Miss  Blake's  boots  and 
the  leaving  of  her  own  for  Densie  to  blacken! 

September  brought  the  clubs  into  session  and  Densie, 
unbeknown  to  anyone,  joined  the  Opera  Reading  Club, 
the  Progressive  Thought  Club,  and  prepared  to  puncture 
a  set  of  brass  candle  shades.  Sally  was  clamoring  for 
candlelight  at  dinner.  "  It  is  quite  the  thing,"  she  had 
said  more  than  once. 

The  first  clubwoman  of  prominence  with  whom  Densie 
came  into  contact  was  Mrs.  Naomi  Winters,  a  pygmy  sat- 
ellite who  was  guilty  of  thin  crinkly  paper  lined  with  tar- 
tan plaid  and  scented  with  lily  of  the  valley,  and  who 
always  signed  herself,  except  to  her  sister-in-law,  "  Yours 
with  a  heart  full  of  love." 

She  pounced  upon  Densie  as  a  new  and  innocent 
booster  for  herself,  and  flattered  her  by  giving  her  pen- 
cils to  sharpen  before  the  ballot  was  cast  as  to  whether 
Rigoletto  or  II  Trovatore  should  be  the  first  opera  to 
be  studied. 

Densie  looked  at  the  room  filled  with  women  with  a 
sort  of  awe.  They  were  so  totally  different  from  any- 
thing she  had  expected;  some  were  dowdy,  some  amus- 
ingly dressed,  one  or  two  quite  smart  —  these  were  the 
leaders.  Each  talked  of  her  own  self  and  ideas,  and 
everyone  stared  at  her  or  smiled  patronizingly,  and  it 
was  not  until  the  club  came  to  a  deadlock  as  to  who 
should  make  ten  dozen  light  tea  biscuit  for  the  first  "  eat- 
ing meeting  "  of  the  season  that  Densie  became  an  im- 

66 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

portant  member !  Everyone  crowded  to  lend  silver  can- 
delabra or  silk  prayer  rugs,  and  Mrs.  Naomi  Winters 
panted  to  be  asked  to  read  a  paper  on  Sea  Shells  —  but 
the  biscuit — ah,  that  was  a  different  matter  1 

Here  Densie  found  herself  timidly  rising  a  shabby 
little  person  with  serious  purplish  eyes  and  an  old-time 
hat  hiding  her  pretty  hair  and  saying:  "  Madam  Presi- 
dent, I  —  I  will  make  the  ten  dozen  biscuit!  " 

There  followed  a  soft  pat-patting  of  hands,  and  Den- 
sie was  immediately  appointed  chairman  of  the  refresh- 
ment committee ! 

At  the  close  of  the  meeting  Mrs.  Winters,  who  seemed 
to  know  everyone  and  everything  about  everyone,  good 
or  bad,  condescended  to  walk  a  ways  with  Densie  and 
initiate  her  into  the  mysteries  of  women's  clubs. 

Mrs.  Winters  had  taught  school  before  her  marriage 
and  was  now  a  widow.  She  had  aspirations  to  becom- 
ing vice-regent  of  the  Daughters  of  the  American  Revo- 
lution, and  was  using  the  clubs  as  stepping  stones  to  that 
end.  She  discreetly  hinted  this,  saying  that  when  the 
day  came  that  she  was  elected  to  the  desired  post  she 
was  not  going  to  forget  the  friends  who  had  helped  her 

—  dear,  no ! 

Then  she  proposed  that  Densie  join  The  Forum,  a 
very  intellectual  affair,  meeting  Saturday  mornings  to 
discuss  current  topics.  It  was  only  five  dollars  a  year  — 
luncheons  and  banquets  extra  —  and  she  knew  Densie 
would  enjoy  it. 

"  But  I  bake  on  Saturdays."  Densie  clung  to  the  old 
schedule. 

"  You  poor  lamb  —  you  must  come  out  of  the  kitchen 

—  after  you've  done  our  tea  biscuit,"  she  finished  with  a 
playful  poke  of  the  ribs.     They  were  walking  arm  in 
arm,  a  customary  procedure  with  Mrs.  Winters.     "  You 

6? 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

can  buy  your  baked  goods  —  try  the  Homestead  —  won- 
derful pineapple  pies.  My  dear,  don't  drudge  any  more. 
I  want  to  see  that  face  of  yours  without  a  single  worry 
line." 

Then  they  stood  on  the  street  corner  half  an  hour 
while  Mrs.  Winters,  delighted  to  find  a  new  and  gullible 
subject,  told  of  her  excursion  to  the  Italian  lakes  and  of 
how  a  count  kissed  her  hand,  and  when  she  was  in  Lon- 
don her  being  asked  to  read  a  most  masterful  paper  on 
Women's  Wrongs ! 

She  bade  Densie  good-by,  convinced  that  here  was  a 
worker,  and  took  a  passing  car.  Densie  had  to  walk 
eight  blocks,  having  gone  out  of  her  way,  as  entranced 
as  a  victim  of  the  Pied  Piper  himself.  She  found  a  very 
hungry  Sally  and  Kenneth  and  John  —  John  who  was 
home  early  for  the  first  time  in  weeks  —  and  they  all 
demanded  querulously  where  she  had  been ! 

When  she  confessed  she  had  joined  the  Opera  Reading 
Club  there  was  a  diversion  of  opinion.  Still,  it  is  never 
fair  to  take  down  a  binding  statement  when  the  witness  is 
hungry!  Hurrying  about  to  get  her  supper  on  the  table 
Densie  became  confused  and  her  head  ached  —  was  it 
neglecting  her  home?  Most  of  the  members  had  maids 
or  boarded  —  where  had  she  put  the  cold  potato?  —  and 
of  course  she  had  talked  a  long  time  to  Mrs.  Winters. 
John  would  never  have  grumbled  before  Mrs.  Winters, 
Liie  could  picture  him  bowing  and  smiling  politely  and 
agreeing  to  everything  —  she  must  make  him  a  cup  of 
tea.  There  —  now  things  were  ready!  But  she  was 
not  hungry  and  her  head  throbbed. 

She  sat  at  the  table  forgetful  of  her  apron  until  unani- 
mously reminded,  and  tried  to  make  them  appreciate  that 
this  was  her  peculiar  form  of  recreation,  as  billiards  and 
cocktails  were  John's,  picture  painting  and  dancing  Sal- 

68 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ly's  —  and  social-service  school  Harriet's.  Only  Ken- 
neth said  solemnly,  his  brown  eyes  very  loving:  "Are 
you  tired,  mummy  —  or  did  you  have  such  a  good  time 
you  don't  mind?  " 

She  turned  to  him  with  almost  passionate  longing  to 
carry  him  off,  some  place  where  they  could  be  together 
in  a  bit  of  a  house  with  a  woodshed,  and  where  she  could 
bake  biscuits  for  the  Opera  Reading  Club  without  ridi- 
cule or  protest! 


VI 

Mrs.  Naomi  Winters  called  on  Densie  Plummer 
shortly,  to  interest  her  in  the  Poets'  Club,  of  which  she 
was  the  president.  Before  she  left,  Densie  had  given 
her  the  membership  fee  and  agreed  to  do  the  correspond- 
ence work  for  the  coming  month  —  several  sets  of  postals 
and  one  or  two  letters  that  Mrs.  Winters  graciously  dic- 
tated. 

The  family  rather  frowned  on  Mrs.  Winters;  it  was 
evident  that  Densie  was  beginning  to  look  outside  her  four 
walls,  and  she  left  a  cold  supper  and  instructions  for  tea 
making  with  Sally  whenever  the  clubs  met.  John  was 
rather  amused,  almost  pleased  save  as  it  affected  his  com- 
fort—  for  he  had  a  sense  of  justice  no  matter  if  it  had 
been  strangled  of  late,  and  he  felt  that  Densie  needed 
recreation. 

He  was  so  used  to  having  Densie  adore  him  that  he 
was  blind  to  anything  save  her  direct  relationship  as  it 
concerned  him.  She  was  "  mother  " —  he  never  inter- 
fered with  her  discipline;  she  was  just  as  all  women 
should  be  —  chiefly  concerned  with  her  home  and  his 
favorite  cooking  recipes.  Densie  adored  John  as  moth- 
ers sometimes  do  their  eldest  sons.  The  relationship 
had  gradually  drifted  into  this.  At  first  it  had  been  John 
who  adored  Densie  —  before  he  was  sure  of  her;  then 
they  ardently  loved  each  other  and  supposed  they  would 
always  so  do.  After  which  Densie's  life  narrowed  be- 
cause of  her  family  and  straitened  circumstances,  so  that 
romance  left  the  Little  House.  Unselfish  ambition  con- 

70 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

sumed  Densie,  she  must  do  everything  for  her  family, 
there  would  be  time  enough  for  this  or  that  after  the  chil- 
dren were  grown  or  John  had  made  his  fortune.  Her 
share  of  the  hill  climbing  was  to  be  housekeeper  and 
home  maker,  never  to  bother  John  by  nagging  or  com- 
plaining or  intimating  a  lack  of  confidence  in  what  he 
should  ultimately  do.  John  Plummer  was  John  Plum- 
mer  and  the  argument  was  closed.  Even  her  friends, 
quiet  home  bodies  like  herself,  marveled  at  the  growing 
contrast  between  them  —  John's  youthful  buoyancy  and 
Densie's  tired  young  self. 

"  What  do  you  women  do  at  these  clubs?  "  John  asked 
her  one  of  the  few  evenings  he  happened  to  stay  at  home. 

"  We  have  papers  read  and  we  hear  about  things  — 
and  eat  —  and  look  at  each  other's  hats,"  Densie  ad- 
mitted, laughing. 

She  laid  aside  her  pile  of  darning  and  came  over  to 
John's  chair.  For  many  years  Densie  had  balanced  her- 
self on  the  chair  arm  while  she  told  John  or  John  told 
Densie  the  happenings  of  the  day  —  Aunt  Sally  and 
Uncle  Herbert  had  done  likewise. 

"  I  think  it  does  me  good,  John.  I  know  I'm  not  clever 
and  that  I  could  never  read  a  paper  on  anything  except 
cooking.  But  I  enjoy  listening  and  being  with  women 
who  use  their  brains  and  let  their  hands  grow  white." 
Unconsciously  she  hid  her  small  reddish  ones  under  her 
apron. 

"What  part  do  you  take  —  just  audience?"  John 
smiled  up  at  her. 

"  I  make  the  biscuit  and  the  whipped-cream  cake  and 
the  salad  dressing."  Densie's  eyes  twinkled.  "  By  and 
by  some  newer  member  will  heave  into  sight  and  I'll 
wrap  her  in  my  mantle.  Then  I'll  be  allowed  to  watch 
the  umbrellas  or  tag  round  to  the  newspaper  offices  with 

71 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  notices  for  meetings.  It  has  its  humorous  side,  1 
admit,  but  so  has  everything  else  that  is  worth  while. 
There  are  so  many  tired,  lonesome  faces,  John,  as  if  the 
women  were  not  happy  or  felt  cheated  of  the  really  big 
things  for  which  they  were  intended.  I  have  often 
watched  them  and  forgotten  the  club  paper  —  big  stories 
lurk  behind  wrinkled  foreheads  and  sunken  eyes !  " 

"  Do  you  never  admit  mere  man?  " 

"  Mere  man  never  wishes  to  be  admitted.  Besides, 
we  have  the  clubs  as  a  revenge  on  mere  man's  bowling 
night  and  gymnasium  practice,  billiards  and  pool,  cards 
—  all  sorts  of  nice  masculine  recreations.  Of  course,  I 
couldn't  belong  to  clubs  and  do  my  share  if  we  were  back 
in  the  old  home  —  but  the  flat  makes  it  easier." 

"Good!  I'm  glad  you're  sensible.  With  Harriet 
away  and  Kenneth  such  a  lamb,  Sally  is  your  only  real 
problem,  isn't  she?  We'll  always  stay  in  a  flat,  Densie. 
It  is  the  sensible  thing  for  families  these  days." 

Densie  slipped  from  the  chair  arm  and  returned  to  her 
mending.  Something  stirred  deep  within  her  at  the  men- 
tion of  the  other  home;  its  very  name  recalled  a  thousand 
tender  memories,  whereas  the  flat  brought  to  her  mind 
nothing  but  the  tumity-tum  of  the  Sullivans'  mechanical 
piano  and  the  array  of  empty  cans  in  the  back  yard. 
'  Yes,  we  must  change  with  the  times,"  she  admitted. 

Following  the  joining  of  the  Poets'  Club  Densie  affili- 
ated herself  with  the  Forum,  also  introduced  by  Mrs. 
Winters,  and  placed  her  baking  order  with  the  Home- 
stead! But  by  this  time  Densie  saw  that  club  politics 
played  a  huge  part  in  the  club  movement,  and  she  flatly 
refused  to  make  biscuit  for  the  Forum  luncheon,  thereby 
bringing  an  avalanche  of  reproach  upon  her  head,  but 
winning  a  certain  respect,  which  she  had  not  done  in  the 
other  clubs.  The  Forum  was  a  rather  advanced  club, 

72 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

they  brought  a  second-rate  metropolitan  lecturer  —  at  a 
fabulous  sum,  according  to  Densie's  ideas  —  to  read  a 
paper  on  Superwomen  and  then  be  gorged  with  whipped 
cream  and  fruit  cake  at  the  conclusion  of  the  general  dis- 
cussion. It  was  all  crude  and  extremely  humorous,  to 
the  lecturer;  but  it  meant  that  Ibsen,  Hauptmann,  Pater 
—  were  no  longer  names  to  Densie,  that  she  knew  of 
women  who  triumphed  over  men,  and  that  if  a  woman 
chose  to  start  in  using  her  brains  for  something  else  save 
making  mince-meat  or  taking  stains  from  the  carpets  there 
was  no  telling  where  she  might  end. 

After  all,  the  surest  way  to  have  a  women's  revolution 
is  to  present  them  with  limitations;  they  are  certain  to 
become  outraged  and  victorious  and  to  return  said  limita- 
tions in  shattered  atoms  with  their  compliments. 

"  Look,  mummy,"  Kenneth  said  one  day  —  it  was 
after  a  hasty  luncheon,  because  Densie  wished  to  attend 
a  special  executive  meeting  of  the  Forum  — "  can  I  please 
keep  him?  " 

Densie  turned  round  to  look.  "  Him  "  was  a  tawny 
ball  of  fluff,  cuddled  in  her  boy's  arms;  two  very  bright 
eyes  looked  at  her  in  friendly  fashion. 

"What  dog  is  that?"  she  said,  unable  to  be  stern. 

"  Oh,  he's  nobody,  mother;  he  was  just  born  in  Skin- 
ner's back  yard.  But  if  we  don't  keep  him  they'll  drown 
him.  I  want  to  call  him  Socks,  because  he  has  four 
white  feet." 

"  Kenneth,  dear,  we  can't  —  in  a  flat!  " 

The  brown  eyes  darkened.  "  If  we  were  at  home," 
he  protested,  "  he  could  live  in  the  woodshed." 

Densie  fumbled  with  her  veil.  "Yes;  but  not  here. 
Mrs.  Sullivan  has  her  Angora  kitty,  and  they  are  older 
tenants.  I'm  afraid  it  would  never  do.  Never  mind, 
dear;  some  day  you  can  have  a  dog." 

73 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  He's  so  little,"  began  Kenneth,  tears  welling  in  the 
brown  eyes. 

"  I  know  —  but  he  wouldn't  be  happy  cooped  up  in  a 
flat;  he  needs  a  fenced-in  yard  for  play.  Take  him  back, 
Ken.  I'll  let  you  go  to  the  next  circus.  You'll  like  that, 
won't  you?  " 

The  brown  eyes  stared  in  reproach.  "  A  circus  ain't 
but  a  day,"  he  began. 

"  Isn't  but  a  day,  you  mean." 

"  I  can't  speak  nice  when  I'm  hurt,"  he  ended  defiantly, 
leaving  the  room. 

That  night  he  said  he  wanted  no  supper,  and  rather 
silently  he  went  to  his  little  room. 

"What's  the  matter  with  Ken?"  asked  Sally. 
Though  she  battled  with  him  upon  the  slightest  provoca- 
tion, whenever  he  so  much  as  shed  a  tear  she  was  up  in 
arms  for  his  defense. 

"  It  was  a  puppy  I  could  not  let  him  keep,"  Densie  an- 
swered absent-mindedly.  "  They  drowned  him,  I  think. 
I'm  sorry,  but  we  never  could  have  an  animal  in  an 
upper  flat." 

"  He  might  have  had  just  one  little  puppy,"  Sally  com- 
bated. "  Poor  Ken  is  cooped  up,  and  no  one  seems  .to 
mind.  He  can't  have  a  tent  in  the  back  yard  because 
Mrs.  Sullivan  is  always  having  her  washing  done;  and 
he  can't  have  one  on  the  upper  veranda  because  we  all 
want  to  sit  there;  and  he  can't  have  one  in  his  bedroom 
because  it  isn't  big  enough  to  change  his  mind;  and  the 
attic  is  too  dirty;  no  matter  how  many  times  you  clean 
your  half  of  it,  Mrs.  Sullivan's  half  is  eternally  dirty  and 
it  blows  over  —  so  Ken  has  to  fold  up  like  a  tent  instead 
of  having  one." 

"  And  what  would  you  suggest?  "  said  Densie  a  trifle 
irritably.  She  had  returned  from  a  satisfactory  execu- 

74 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

tive  meeting,  at  which  she  was  nominated  for  delegate  to 
the  city  federation  and  was  to  wear  a  white  ribbon  badge 
and  a  pink  rose  on  her  left  shoulder.  "  I  cannot  murder 
the  lower-flat  tenants." 

"  I  just  said  it  was  a  shame."     Sally  walked  away. 

"  Please  help  me  carry  out  the  things." 

Densie  frowned;  she  hated  above  all  things  to  have  to 
insist  on  Sally's  doing  what  was  really  her  daily  task. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  had  to  tell  her  a  dozen  times  a  day 
to  do  what  she  was  expected  to  do  without  being  told. 

"  I  want  to  read  your  letter  from  Harriet.  If  daddy 
isn't  coming  home,  what's  the  hurry?  " 

Sally  nonchalantly  lounged  into  the  front  room.  She 
found  Harriet's  letter  and  opened  it.  But  before  she 
began  to  read  she  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass.  This 
was  a  favorite  trick.  Mrs.  Sullivan  had  asked  her  down- 
stairs for  cards  that  evening;  Densie  was  not  to  know, 
but  there  was  to  be  a  young  chap  of  twenty-four  to  meet 
Sally,  and  Mrs.  Sullivan  was  to  help  Sally  fix  up,  once  she 
was  safely  below.  Sally  tossed  her  pretty  head.  Dean 
Laddbarry  would  be  wild!  She  would  have  great  fun 
telling  him  about  it,  exaggerating  the  young  man's  sudden 
ardor  and  attentions.  She  liked  to  keep  Dean  stepping 
she  said;  besides  he  was  goody-good  and  always  going  to 
church  with  his  grandmother  or  trying  to  earn  money 
for  something  or  other.  Sally  preferred  one  who  went 
to  dances  with  her  and  who  spent  money. 

She  came  back  to  read  the  letter  to  Densie,  but  her 
mother  said  sharply,  "  Dinner  is  ready,  Sally." 

At  which  she  flung  her  strong  young  arms  about  her 
and  kissed  her  impetuously  on  the  cheek.  "  Mummy's 
cross  —  just  because  I  wouldn't  carry  in  the  dishes.  I'll 
wash  'em  —  honestly,  I  will;  and  while  you  serve,  I'll 
read  this  dear  old  prig's  letter." 

75 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Smiling  in  spite  of  herself  Densie  began  to  slice  the 
meat. 

Dear  People:  There  is  really  nothing  to  write,  and  yet  I 
know  you  expect  to  hear.  I  have  addressed  this  letter  to  Sally 
because  it  is  her  turn,  but  it  is  for  you  all.  I  am  well  and  very 
busy.  I  have  received  99  in  psychology  and  100  for  my  original 
theme  on  "  The  Causes  of  Infidelity  Among  the  Italians  in  the 
United  States."  Miss  Blake  is  coming  down  for  Christmas  vaca- 
tion and  I  wish  to  stay  here;  it  would  save  daddy  some  money 
and  be  an  excellent  thing  for  me.  Miss  Blake  wants  to  take  me 
to  see  some  Ibsen  plays,  and  I  also  v/ant  to  meet  some  more  peo- 
ple. I  hope  you  are  all  well.  Excuse  this  brief  letter,  but  really 
there  is  nothing  more  to  say.  Lovingly, 

HARRIET. 

P.  S. —  Tell  mummy  not  to  make  me  any  more  blouses ;  I  am 
going  to  wear  pongee  smocks;  and  if  she  will  send  me  a  box  of 
Christmas  goodies  I  shall  be  ever  so  much  obliged  —  especially  a 
cake! 

"Well,"  decided  Sally,  folding  up  the  letter  with  a 
flourish,  "  I  am  sure  that  is  a  very  thrilling  bunch  of 
news.  However,  even  a  warm-hearted  hen  cannot  lay  a 
hard-boiled  egg —  and  I  suppose  we  ought  not  to  expect 
very  much  from  Miss  Iceberg." 

'  Don't  use  slang."     Densie  shook  her  head. 

'Won't  we  have  a  Christmas  tree?"  asked  Kenneth. 

1  Not  up  here,"  Sally  answered.  "  I'd  be  hunting  pine 
needles  the  rest  of  my  life.  Let's  get  an  artificial  tree, 
mummy;  may  we?  " 

"  If  you  like." 

Densie  was  thinking  of  Harriet's  essay  on  the  causes 
of  infidelity;  it  seemed  to  her  a  ghastly  topic;  Aunt  Sally 
had  educated  her  to  believe  there  were  certain  things 
about  which  one  never  talked.  If,  unfortunately,  there 
came  an  imperative  and  personal  problem,  then  one's 

76 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

mother  and  father  and  the  minister  were  the  proper  tri- 
bunal. Harriet  —  not  eighteen,  and  in  New  York  —  to 
be  refusing  to  come  home  for  Christmas,  though  she  de- 
manded a  cake,  and  winning  an  honor  mark  for  an  essay 
on  such  a  subject!  x 

"  I  don't  want  an  artificial  tree,"  protested  Kenneth. 
"  I  like  to  smell  the  real  one  and  then  burn  it  as  we  used 
to  do." 

"  We  have  no  fireplace,  goose-goose.  Where  would 
we  burn  it  —  in  the  gas  range?  "  Sally  giggled. 

"Ain't  we  got  anything  real?"  Kenneth  savagely 
lapsed  into  ungrammatical  language. 

"  Sh-h-h !     Pass  your  plate,    Ken.     Try  these " 

"  Canned  stuff,"  he  remarked  cynically.  "  I  don't 
want  any  of  it." 

"  Mummy,  I  want  to  go  downstairs  to  Mrs.  Sullivan's; 
she  is  going  to  have  a  table  of  cards.  Please,  angel- 
mummy  you  know  you  want  to  be  at  peace  with  the  world, 
and  I'd  get  you  all  upset  with  my  nonsense.  Say  yes, 
and  I'll  be  home  by  eleven." 

"  School  to-morrow,  Sally !  " 

"  Bother  school !  Say  yes,  and  I'll  even  write  Harriet 
a  jolly  note.  If  daddy  was  here  he'd  say  yes." 

"  Yes,"  said  Densie  quietly. 

She  had  club  work  to  do;  in  secret  she  was  actually 
attempting  a  club  paper  —  it  was  as  sacred  and  stupen- 
dous an  undertaking  as  if  she  had  been  appointed  to 
survey  Gibraltar!  Furthermore,  she  did  not  wish  Sally 
to  suspect  what  she  was  doing,  she  felt  that  the  child 
would  ridicule  her. 

So  Densie  washed  the  dishes  herself,  despite  Sally's 
promise;  and  Kenneth  went  to  bed  with  a  book;  and 
Sally,  dressed  in  a  crisp  blue  silk,  tripped  below  to  be 
received  by  Mrs.  Sullivan  with  enthusiastic  praise.  Mrs. 

77 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Sullivan  thought  Sally  had  possibilities  in  becoming  an 
actress,  as  well  as  great  talent  in  her  painting —  Sally 
having  painted  menu  cards  for  Mrs.  Sullivan's  wedding 
anniversary!  She  also  considered  Mrs.  Plummer  a  little 
dowd  who  would  never  "  hold  her  husband." 

She  helped  Sally  dress  her  lovely  hair  in  extreme  fash- 
ion and  wind  a  black  velvet  band  about  it;  she  also  loaned 
her  two  rings  and  a  string  of  near  coral  and  powdered 
her  little  face  until  she  looked  a  veritable  fashion  plate. 

Sally  was  happy.  She  met  the  young  chap,  a  very  gay 
dog  with  a  sophisticated  air,  and  quite  captivated  him 
in  the  way  she  dimpled  and  smiled  and  talked  about  the 
world  and  its  ways  in  a  blase  manner. 

Later  they  had  a  Dutch  lunch  consisting  of  beer  and 
salad  and  rye  bread,  and  Sally  drank  her  beer  because  she 
would  not  "  give  away  her  age,"  and  tried  to  fight  off 
the  consequent  sleepiness.  Altogether  it  was  a  wonder- 
ful evening.  She  came  upstairs  to  find  the  lights  ex- 
tinguished save  in  the  hall.  Densie  had  pinned  a  note  to 
her  nightgown  —  she  no  longer  waited  up  for  her  f am- 
ily. 

It  read:  "  Dean  came  to  see  you.  He  wants  to  take 
you  out  to  his  grandfather's  farm  on  Sunday.  Good 
night  and  God  bless  Sally!  " 

Sally  crumpled  the  note.  After  all,  there  was  no  one 
quite  like  mummy  and  Dean.  But  then,  mummy  and 
Dean  were  always  there,  waiting,  whenever  she  was  fin- 
ished with  other  people;  she  would  never  have  to  worry 
about  that !  And  it  was  larky  to  be  able  to  meet  young 
men  who  said  nice  things  and  never  dreamed  that  she  was 
only  a  little  schoolgirl. 

Densie  was  awake  but  she  did  not  get  up  to  see  Sally. 
She  had  done  her  mending,  though  not  so  carefully  as 
usual,  and  then  had  written  Harriet  briefly  to  say  she 

78 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

might  stay  in  New  York  and  that  she  would  send  her 
some  goodies  and  she  was  a  little  surprised  to  learn 
the  topics  upon  which  young  students  were  asked  to  write. 
At  the  Young  Ladies'  Seminary  at  Athol  Springs  one 
wrote  her  essays  on  such  themes  as  The  Happiest  Day 
of  My  Life,  Our  Minister,  or  How  to  Overcome  One's 
Faults! 

Then  she  took  a  look  at  Kenneth  to  see  if  all  was  well 
and  came  to  her  old-fashioned  desk  to  begin  writing.  As 
she  wrote  she  heard  the  voices  below,  laughing  over  their 
card  game,  and  she  paused  to  wonder  whether  it  had  been 
right  to  allow  Sally  to  go  alone.  But  had  she  dared  sug- 
gest a  chaperon  she  would  have  been  laughed  at  and  de- 
fied —  things  were  all  so  different ! 

She  dismissed  her  fears  and  continued  writing.  Dean 
Laddbarry  had  come  in  to  see  Sally,  and  at  first  Densie 
suggested  he  go  downstairs  and  see  her,  but  he  said  he 
would  not  bother,  it  would  upset  the  "  party."  He  did 
not  add  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Sally  before  he  came 
upstairs,  and  heartily  disapproved. 

"What  are  your  hopes  and  fears,  Dean?"  Densie 
asked,  drawing  a  paper  over  her  writing. 

"  I'm  bound  for  the  West  as  soon  as  I'm  through 
school.  I  want  to  do  something  that's  outdoors."  He 
laughed  at  his  restless  energy.  "  I  don't  believe  I  could 
stand  too  much  civilization.  I'm  not  like  Sally." 

His  face  sobered.  Young  as  he  was,  Dean  had  given 
away  his  heart  for  all  time. 

'  Why  not  a  ranch?  "  Densie  began  to  feel  enthusi- 
astic; she  liked  having  Dean's  coming  to  talk  things  over 
with  her.  "  You're  so  young  and  filled  with  promise, 
you're  bound  to  do  something  worth  while." 

"  I  won't  stay  here,  that's  a  certainty.  Everything  is 
getting  a  mad  scramble.  Why,  it  won't  be  long,  Mrs. 

79 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Plummer,  before  the  old  firms  will  be  crowded  to  the 
wall." 

He  paused,  realizing  he  had  spoken  rashly. 

"  I  suppose  —  they  have  suffered  now  because  they  will 
not  change  their  methods." 

"  You  go  into  a  modern  drug  store  and  you  see  every- 
thing but  drugs  —  artificial  corsages,  dolls,  candy,  maga- 
zines, tennis  rackets,  goldfish;  and  way,  way  back  is  a 
little  spot  labeled  '  Prescriptions.'  It's  the  same  with  a 
book  store.  Department  stores  gobble  them  up.  The 
old-time  boot  stores  have  gone  as  well " 

"  And  tea-and-coffee  stores,"  Densie  laughed. 

Dean  flushed.  "I  hope  not  —  if  Plummer  &  Plum- 
mer stopped  business  we'd  all  take  milk  to  drink!  That 
old  house  stands  for  everything  that  is  square.  My 
grandfather  remembers  when  Mr.  Herbert  Plummer's 
father  founded  it,  how  he  went  to  the  Orient  and  it  took 
him  months  to  complete  arrangements.  He  says  there 
isn't  a  finer  firm  in  the  world." 

"  Yet  they  don't  seem  to  prosper  any  more.  Why, 
Dean!  Here  I  am  telling  you  my  troubles.  Don't 
worry,  dear  boy;  we're  all  right  for  a  while.  I'm  not  a 
good  substitute  for  Sally,  but  I  can  appeal  to  your  stomach 
if  not  your  heart.  How  about  cake?  " 

"  That  special  cake  —  the  sort  you  made  back  at  the 
old  house?  " 

'  The  same,  the  first  we've  had  in  weeks.     I'm  grow- 
ing lazy." 

She  rose  and  he  followed  her  into  the  kitchen.  It 
seemed  so  natural  to  have  Dean  — "  just  a  good-looking 
thing,"  as  Sally  said  —  sitting  at  the  table  to  munch  his 
cake  and  confide  his  plans,  asking  about  Harriet  and 
shaking  his  head  over  the  description  of  the  way  Sally 
was  painting  her  hats  to  match  her  dresses  until  every- 

80 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

one  thought  she  possessed  at  least  a  dozen  —  and  saying 
that  his  family  wanted  to  take  Kenneth  out  on  the  farm 
for  a  holiday  next  summer. 

After  he  left,  kissing  her  unashamedly,  according  to 
custom,  the  club  paper  seemed  flat  and  rather  stale,  and 
she  felt  she  would  better  not  attempt  it.  She  was  angry 
at  herself  for  the  change  in  attitude,  and  as  she  tried  to 
whip  back  the  zest  for  it  she  kept  recalling  the  two  un- 
mended  holes  in  Kenneth's  play  suit  and  the  fact  that 
she  had  yielded  to  an  oiled  mop  for  cleaning  instead  of 
getting  right  down  on  her  hands  and  knees  and  giving 
the  floor  a  "  good  wash." 

So  she  went  to  bed,  divided  between  loyalty  to  the  old 
and  seeking  her  salvation  in  the  new;  and  long  after 
Sally  was  asleep  John  came  home  with  the  news  that  he 
had  decided  to  buy  some  more  mining  stock  —  he  must 
do  something  or  else  the  firm  would  fail. 

"  By  the  way,  Densie,  my  clothes  are  in  tatters,"  he 
complained.  u  Don't  you  ever  get  the  time  to  mend 
any  more?  " 

"  I  will  to-morrow,"  she  promised. 

After  all,  it  takes  a  great  deal  of  dodging  to  evade 
cares  successfully. 


81 


iVII 

Harriet's  summer  vacation  was  spent,  perforce,  with 
her  family.  Everyone  dreaded  it  except  Kenneth  and 
John.  John  really  welcomed  his  oldest  child,  and  he 
kept  thinking  that  Harriet  should  have  been  the  boy, 
she  had  such  a  dignified  way  with  her  that  could  manage 
anyone  or  anything.  It  was  a  shame  her  name  was  not 
authentically  Harry. 

Kenneth  welcomed  her  because  it  meant  that  Harriet 
refused  to  share  Sally's  room,  and  as  they  had  only  three 
bedrooms  it  would  be  Kenneth's  joyful  lot  to  accept 
Dean's  invitation  for  the  country.  For  eight  weeks  he 
would  revel  in  green  .fields,  with  everything  in  the  living 
beastie  line  for  which  he  had  craved  during  the  past 
year. 

"  He's  only  askin'  me  because  he  likes  Sally,"  he  told 
his  mother  with  a  flash  of  wisdom;  "  but  I  don't  care  — 
I'm  gettin'  there  I  I  won't  have  to  hear  Sally  and  Harriet 
fight  and  have  to  stay  off  the  street  because  of  the  big 
boys." 

So  they  packed  his  small  trunk  and  sent  him  on  his  way 
rejoicing,  with  Dean  trying  to  coax  Sally  into  joining 
them  for  a  week. 

'  You  know  I  hate  the  country,"  she  said  pettishly. 
"  I'm  just  getting  acquainted  with  nice  people."  There 
had  been  several  little  parties  at  Mrs.  Sullivan's  at  which 
Sally  had  been  a  guest. 

*  There  are  roses  and  buggy  rides  and  picnics  in  the 
woods,"  he  said  wistfully.  "  You  know  you'd  like  it  after 
you  got  there." 

She  shook  her  head.     "No,  thank  you.     Take  Ken; 

82 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

he's  sure  to  java-and-mocha  better  than  I  would.  I  can't 
bear  to  be  sunburnt,  and  I  loathe  pigs !  " 

"  You  needn't  look  at  'em,  Sally,  dear." 

"  You'd  be  in  horrid  working  things,  and  there's  the 
smell  of  the  barns  —  ugh,  I  wouldn't  stand  it !  " 

So  she  sent  him  away  with  her  brother,  a  grain  of  conso- 
lation in  the  fact  that  at  least  he  was  making  inroads  into 
his  beloved's  family. 

Harriet  arrived,  very  pale  and  thin  and  reserved  to- 
ward everyone  and  everything.  She  considered  the  Sul- 
livans  a  vulgar  sort,  and  her  mother  was  amusing  in 
her  abortive  attempts  at  club  life;  "mental  pap"  she 
called  their  courses  of  study.  Her  father  looked  splen- 
did and  she  did  not  blame  him  for  staying  away  a  good 
share  of  the  time.  It  was  impossible  to  be  composed 
in  a  crowded  upper  flat  in  which  a  hair  wreath  and  a 
Gibson  girl  glared  at  each  other,  and  Sally's  popular  songs 
and  Densie's  hymnal  sat  side  by  side  on  the  piano  rack. 
When  Sally  pertinently  made  a  little  footstool  out  of  an 
old  shoulder  organ  which  one  of  Densie's  great  uncles,  a 
circuit  rider,  used  to  carry  on  his  back  from  town  to 
town,  and  Densie  said  it  was  a  sacrilege,  Harriet  ridi- 
culed both  of  them  alike. 

It  was  impossible  to  know  Harriet;  Densie  made  sev- 
eral attempts.  She  took  her  to  a  basket  picnic  of  the 
Forum,  but  was  sorry  she  had  done  so,  for  the  girl  was 
patronizing  to  her  mother's  friends  and  stated  radical 
views  in  startling  fashion;  even  Mrs.  Naomi  Winters  ad- 
mitted that  here  was  a  young  person  who  might  be  clever, 
but  was  decidedly  unconventional. 

Then  Densie  tried  to  win  her  by  old-time  cooking  — 
the  fussy  expensive  dishes  she  had  not  made  in  more  than 
a  year,  but  Harriet  waved  them  aside.  She  ate  no  meat, 
she  loathed  a  gourmand  —  this  with  a  little  smile  di- 

83 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

rected  in  Sally's  pathway,  Sally  returning  it  with  a  hope- 
to-die  face  —  and  she  followed  the  example  of  some  of 
her  beloved  teachers  —  a  biscuit-and-lettuce-and-prune 
sort  of  dietary.  Even  Miss  Blake  had  become  a  bit  ultra, 
according  to  Harriet,  though  she  still  valued  her  opinion. 
But  Miss  Blake  was  provincial!  Harriet  had  created  an 
entirely  new  set  of  values,  she  explained. 

When  Densie  timidly  mentioned  the  essay  on  the  causes 
of  infidelity  Harriet  without  a  blush,  and  without  any  real 
understanding,  answered  in  such  concise  and  startling 
terms  that  Densie  felt  the  Forum,  the  Poets'  Club  and 
the  rest  were  naught  but  mental  kindergartens. 

Harriet  and  Sally  did  not  openly  disagree  —  Sally 
would  have  been  delighted,  but  Harriet  refused.  They 
were  "  estranged,"  each  with  her  own  interests  —  Sally 
her  friends  and  pretty  frocks,  her  daubs  of  paintings,  her 
lovable  nonsense;  whereas  Harriet,  shabby  but  content 
in  a  crumpled  linen  frock,  would  steal  to  her  room  and 
spend  the  day  poring  over  some  revolutionary  handbook 
or  making  notations  for  future  reference  about  a  moth- 
eaten  and  long-ago-forgotten  civilization  of  which  she 
had  just  read. 

She  chose  a  fair  portion  of  the  work  —  never  in  the 
kitchen,  but  a  scornful  arranging  of  the  rooms;  and  this 
she  did  regardless  of  the  day.  One  day  Sally  would 
attempt  cooking  dinner,  washing  dishes  and  cleaning  the 
floors,  and  for  a  week  afterward  refuse  even  to  dust  her 
own  dressing  table. 

Harriet  would  not  meet  Sally's  friends.  "  I  don't  say 
but  what  Sally  has  a  right  to  develop  in  her  own  way; 
she  is  beautiful  but  quite  a  fool,  mother,  and  I  can  never 
be  intimate  with  her." 

"Don't  grow  away  from  us  altogether,  will  you?" 
Densie  had  urged.  '  You  seem  so  grown  up  and  such  a 

84 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

stranger  —  I  dread  to  think  of  what  four  more  years 
will  bring." 

Harriet  smiled. 

"  I  don't  quite  understand  what  you  intend  doing," 
Densie  added.  "  Of  course,  I  believe  in  and  urge  charity 
work  —  your  Aunt  Sally  was  the  soul  of  charity.  Many's 
the  time  she  has  rescued  some  poor  waif  or  abused  ani- 
mal or  set  a  family  on  its  feet  —  but  it  doesn't  seem  as  if 
you  were  going  to  be  like  her." 

44  I  never  expect  to  have  personal  contact  with  the 
poor,"  Harriet  explained;  "  that  is  apart  from  my  work. 
Statistics  are  what  I  am  studying,  tabulating  the  various 
things.  I  really  can't  explain  it,  mother,  but  when  I  go 
back  I'll  send  you  reading  matter,  and  then  perhaps  you 
can  see.  I  hope  to  write  original  essays  after  a  few 
years.  As  soon  as  I  am  through  school  I  shall  be  ap- 
pointed to  some  bureau  in  New  York.  If  I  can  I  shall 
spend  all  my  vacations  abroad  —  I  can  earn  extra  money 
coaching  —  because  I  must  study  penal  institutions.  The 
Swiss  homes  for  women  criminals  are  vastly  superior  to 
ours.  Some  of  the  murderesses,  particularly  those  who 
killed  from  a  jealous  motive,  are  most  interesting.  And 
the  drunkards  and  prostitutes  are  entirely  apart " 

44  My  dear  little  child  " —  Densie  was  aghast  — u  you 
must  not  hear  of  such  things  or  see  such  people!  I  shall 
talk  with  your  father  to-night!  " 

44  It  is  merely  analyzing  them,"  the  girl  persisted. 
44  Don't  worry,  mother,  I'm  not  at  all  contaminated. 
Besides,  I  intend  to  do  such  work  always.  And  now  I 
want  to  tell  you  about  clothes.  I  need  so  very  few  and 
of  such  a  different  sort  from  Sally  that  I  prefer  tc  take 
my  money  and  buy  them  in  New  York.  Then  I  can  rjet 
just  what  I  want  —  a  mannish  tweed  suit  and  starched 
waists  and  smocks  for  Sundav  high  teas." 

,85 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Have  you  been  going  to  church?  " 

"Have  you?" 

Densie  flushed.  "I'm  ashamed  to  say  not  regularly; 
Sunday  seems  to  be  the  one  day  in  which  to  get  caught  up 
with  odds  and  ends  —  not  right,  I  know,  and  I  intend  it 
shall  be  different.  But  you,  dearie,  ought  to  go  —  why, 
even  Sally  does." 

"  Because  she  has  good  hats  and  decent-looking  feet," 
Harriet  retorted;  "  but  for  myself,  I  shall  never  go." 

"  You  mean  you  do  not  believe  in  God !  " 

Densie  stood  up  in  her  excitement. 

"  I  believe  in  a  Force  —  but  not  the  cut-and-dried 
theology  that  you  taught  me.  I  believe  the  Deity  is 
kindly,  but  not  omnipotent  —  and  I  am  not  interested  in 
religion  half  so  much  as  in  other  things.  If  I  were  I 
dare  say  I  might  formulate  a  certain  creed  or  set  of 
ethics  —  the  pagan  philosophies  interest  me  far  more." 

Densie  was  silent  from  horrified  disapproval.  Finally 
she  said,  "  And  how  are  you  to  reach  the  poor  unless 
you  tell  them  of  the  Greatest  Poor  Man  of  all,  born  in  a 
manger?  " 

'  There  are  plenty  who  will  do  that  and  be  very 
happy  —  the  sort  who  nag  the  Deity  for  pleasant  weather 
on  the  day  of  church  lawn  fetes  and  fuss  over  the  souls 
of  the  unwashed,  tying  blue  ribbons  on  them,  I  dare 
say." 

'  Your  flippancy  is  not  pleasing,  Harriet." 

"  It  is  honesty.  We  must  be  honest,  mother.  I  can- 
not tell  some  pleasing  little  untruth  just  because  it  would 
make  you  happy." 

'  What  sort  of  women  teach  you  —  and  men  —  and 
what  sort  of  girls  do  you  know?  " 

"  A  very  decent  sort,"  she  answered  in  clipped  modern 

86 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

fashion;  "nice  old  things  —  and  they've  been  bully  to 
me." 

"  And  in  this  great  charity  work  of  yours,  who  is  to 
give  old  men  and  old  women  hot  soups  and  flannels,  and 
comfort  children  and  take  care  of  foundlings?  Someone 
has  to  do  that,  Harriet,  and  we  were  always  taught  that 
to  give  of  oneself  was  the  greatest  charity  of  all." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that  side  of  the  work.  We 
were  talking  of  clothes  and  I  was  saying  that  one  good 
suit  was  all  I  needed " 

"But  these  high  teas?"  Densie  was  not  to  be  put 
off.  "  Where  are  they  and  what  do  you  do  at  them?  " 

"  A  lot  of  us  get  together  and  talk  over  knotty  prob- 
lems; we  row  a  good  deal,  I  admit,  but  it's  corking  fun. 
We  don't  have  much  tea  because  nearly  everyone  smokes 
and  drinks  black  coffee  —  tea  is  rather  in  the  discard." 

"  Smoke !  Do  you  know  what  your  father  would  say 
to  this?" 

"  Daddy  won't  say  anything  —  he's  no  right.  He 
smokes.  Besides,  everyone  has  the  right  to  develop  along 
her  own  peculiar  bent." 

"  Charity  workers  smoking!  Is  that  a  good  example 
to  set  a  street  child?  " 

Harriet  laughed.  "  They  don't  go  about  coloring  a 
meerschaum,  mummy.  You  see  you  can't  understand. 
These  women  are  advanced,  liberated  women,  and  they 
are  true  to  themselves,  scorning  any  conventions.  Is 
smoking  any  worse  than  eating  too  much  candy,  the  way 
Sally  does?" 

Densie  came  very  close  to  her  oldest  child  as  she 
asked  fearfully,  "Have  —  have  you  ever  smoked?" 

"A  little.  Don't  like  it  —  that's  the  only  reason  I 
don't.  Did  you  say  the  underwear  I  brought  home  was 

87 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

on  its  last  round?     Well,  I'll  buy  new  in  New  York. 
You  can  give  it  to  Sally." 

Densie  felt  as  if  the  door  had  been  pushed  shut  and 
locked  and  she  stood  without,  unwelcomed.  For  the 
remainder  of  the  vacation  she  did  not  try  to  approach  her 
daughter  with  any  save  trivial  detail.  Nor  did  she  tell 
her  husband  about  the  high  teas.  Something  about  Har- 
riet warned  her  that  interference  would  breed  open  and 
lasting  rebellion. 


VIII 

With  Harriet's  departure  for  her  second  year  in  New 
York  and  Kenneth's  joyous  return  from  his  holiday, 
Densie  took  up  her  club  work  for  the  winter,  only  to  be 
halted  by  a  new  and  perplexing  problem. 

The  opening  of  the  high  school  was  on  a  Tuesday. 
Arrayed  in  some  fluffy  dress  Sally  had  pranced  out  of  the 
house  in  high  spirit.  She  had  just  passed  her  seventeenth 
birthday — and  Harriet  her  nineteenth  —  and  she  had 
but  one  more  year  before  graduation. 

"How  was  school?"  Densie  had  asked  at  the  din- 
ner table. 

"All  right,"  Sally  said  vaguely;  then  she  began  to 
ask  her  father  nonsensical  questions. 

"  And  what  studies  will  you  have?  "  Densie  continued 
patiently. 

"  Oh  —  awful  old  stuff !  Don't  remind  me  of  it. 
Daddy,  may  I  go  to  the  billiard  tournament  with  you? 
Lots  of  girls  go  with  their  fathers." 

"  But  I  shall  play  in  it  —  how  can  I  take  you?  " 

Sally  looked  at  her  mother.  She  was  thinking  how 
shabby  Densie  would  seem  in  the  fashionable  hotel  parlor. 
So  she  said,  "  I  could  be  with  Mrs.  Sullivan,  for  she  is 
going  too." 

"  John,"  Densie  protested. 

"Well,  mummy,  what's  the  harm  if  she  likes?  I 
guess  I  can  keep  an  eye  on  Sally  and  win  the  cup  be- 
sides," he  answered  indulgently,  because  he  liked  to  have 
Sally  about;  she  was  so  attractive  that  in  a  certain  sense 
she  took  the  place  of  having  an  attractive  wife. 

89 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  dropped  the  subject.  And  after  the  tourna- 
ment —  at  which  John  did  win  the  cup  and  Sally  carried 
it  about  in  high  glee,  every  member  of  the  club  telling 
John  that  his  daughter  was  a  winner  as  well  —  the  secret 
about  high  school  was  disclosed.  Sally  had  not  even 
registered  at  high  school.  One  of  her  former  teachers 
had  asked  Maude  Hatton  and  Lucy  Parks  about  her,  and 
the  spinsters  coming  over  for  their  Sunday  night  supper 
were  all  anxiety  lest  Sally  was  ill  and  they  had  not  been 
told. 

Densie  was  nonplused.  Sally  had  gone  out  for  the 
evening.  She  disliked  the  old  friends,  they  gave  her  the 
fidgets,  so  she  would  not  be  back  in  time  to  make  any 
explanation  in  their  presence.  John  worried  down  his 
supper,  the  news  alarming  him.  It  was  unlike  Sally, 
and  he  resented  the  fact  of  her  deception's  coming  through 
the  "  old  girls  "  who  so  utterly  bored  him.  It  seemed 
to  John  that  Densie  could  have  found  a  way  of  dropping 
them,  as  she  had  many  of  the  old  things. 

He  took  them  home,  a  tedious  bit  of  chivalry  which 
he  was  still  "  led  into,"  as  he  used  to  declare,  and  listened 
to  their  ladylike  chirpings  about  Sally's  "  naughtiness  " 
and  "  what  could  the  child  be  doing?  "  They  had  been 
chirping  unpleasant  little  things  all  evening.  Even  Den- 
sie admitted  that  as  east  is  east  and  west  is  west,  so  old 
is  old  and  new  is  new;  and  when  they  stared  in  horror  at 
a  ballet-girl  calendar  Sally  was  making  for  her  father's 
office,  and  said  that  the  black-walnut  chairs  in  the  kitchen 
were  better  than  the  reed  ones  on  the  porch,  and  that 
being  on  the  farm  had  saved  Kenneth's  health  —  he  was 
growing  like  a  potato  sprout  in  the  flat;  and  they  won- 
wered  if  Densie  wanted  any  pieces  for  a  quilt;  they  would 
not  only  give  her  some,  but  come  over  to  help  make  it  — 
Densie  felt  as  if  one  half  of  her  was  living  among  ghosts 

90 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  the  other  half  among  flesh-and-blood  persons  who 
disagreed  with  everything  she  did  or  said. 

The  only  modern  thing  they  told  her  was  when  ( Lucy 
Parks  was  helping  Maude  Hatton  readjust  her  rusty 
black  cape  —  Densie  remembered  that  cape  from  the  days 
of  Kenneth's  babyhood. 

"  I  don't  believe  you've  had  a  new  dress  in  an  age, 
Densie,"  she  said,  looking  over  her  spectacles.  "  Come, 
come,  that  won't  do!  Don't  let  Miss  Harriet  run  off 
with  all  your  books  and  Miss  Sally  with  all  your  finery. 
You're  young  too." 

After  they  left  and  Densie  was  waiting  for  John's  re- 
turn so  they  could  discuss  Sally's  strange  action,  she  be- 
gan to  think  of  the  trim  fall  suits  the  club  members  had 
displayed  and  lovely  felt  hats  with  white  wings  or  shin- 
ing buckles.  She  had  been  unconscious  of  her  own  ap- 
pearance. It  had  never  seemed  to  matter.  She  had  been 
so  busy  with  her  home  and  with  trying  to  understand  her 
family  and  provide  for  their  needs  and  to  become  intel- 
lectually rejuvenated  herself  that  the  mere  need  of  clothes 
had  not  entered  her  bewildered  little  brain. 

She  rose  and  opened  the  wardrobe  door  to  look  at  her 
gowns.  They  were  all  of  excellent  material,  but  home- 
made and  remade  and  dyed  and  cut  over  —  and  her  hat 
was  bought  the  year  Kenneth  started  kindergarten,  and 
then  at  a  cheap  store  because  John  had  had  a  bad  loss. 
She  had  one  pair  of  white-kid  gloves,  but  her  others  were 
silk  and  mended  and  yellowed.  She  had  not  become 
initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  smart  corseting  —  her  stays 
were  lax,  old-style  things,  explanation  of  her  aging  figure; 
and  she  wore  shoes  built  for  comfort  and  not  style,  Sally 
said.  In  fact,  Densie  was  hopelessly  shabby.  She  won- 
dered how  much  clothes  made  the  woman,  if  they  made 
the  man,  as  John  had  declared.  She  wondered  how  she 

91 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

would  look  dressed  as  the  president  of  the  Forum  was  at 
a  previous  reception  —  in  a  rosy  lilac  silk  like  a  wild 
dove's  breast,  caught  here  and  there  with  silvery  lace 
and  a  collar  of  pearls  and  a  hat  aigretted  to  the  last  inch 
of  the  brim.  She  had  worn  her  old  black  silk  with  a 
tatting  collar,  but  it  had  not  mattered,  since  she  had 
washed  the  silverware  and  had  been  busy  serving  out 
portions  of  salad  and  ice  cream.  She  wore  a  big  apron, 
she  remembered,  so  that  no  one  had  seen  her  gown. 

Then  she  reproached  herself  for  wandering  from  the 
important  topic  of  Sally's  truancy.  She  was  not  yet 
poised  —  her  mind  was  still  a  single-compartment  affair 
in  which  she  jumbled  up  everything  regardless  of  coher- 
ence or  imperativeness. 

John  returned,  walking  in  with  a  gloomy  air  and  say- 
ing sharply:  "  So  you've  brought  your  daughter  up  to 
lie?" 

He  really  did  not  mean  the  words  just  as  they  sounded, 
but  Densie's  chin  quivered. 

"How  have  you  brought  your  daughter  up?"  she 
demanded. 

"  I  haven't  had  time  —  it  has  been  your  job.  It's  a 
fine  thing  if  a  man  has  to  hear  through  two  tattling  old 
women  that  his  daughter  has  been  skipping  school  and 
never  saying  why.  I  would  not  have  believed  it  of 
Sally." 

"  Nor  I." 

"  It  might  as  well  be  in  the  newspaper  —  that  pair 
will  chortle  over  it  the  rest  of  their  days.  They  don't 
like  me,  Densie,  because  I  haven't  flowing  mudguard 
whiskers  and  a  waistcoat  like  Sam  Hippler's  and  I  don't 
sit  and  bewail  the  automobile  menace,  and  so  on,  and  so 
forth.  Well,  I  suppose  Sally  has  some  sort  of  a  story 
cooked  up  for  us.  The  little  idiot  —  she  must  have 

92 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

known  it  could  not  go  on  very  long  before  it  would  be 
found  out!  " 

"  Let  us  wait  and  see  what  she  has  to  say,"  pleaded 
Densie. 

"  If  you  hadn't  been  so  occupied  with  clubs  all  last 
year  " —  John  tossed  off  his  coat  and  picked  up  a  house 
jacket — "you  might  have  seen  what  was  happening  to 
Sally." 

"  I  did  not  neglect  my  house,"  she  began.  "  I  must 
have  some  outside  interest.  Your  interests  are  outside 
your  home.  You  belong  to  clubs  —  drinking  clubs,"  she 
added. 

'  That  is  for  business.     It  is  expected  of  me." 

"  It  is  for  business  with  me  too.  My  housework  de- 
mands an  antidote;  I  am  shabby  and  a  drudge  even  now 
—  but  I'm  doing  my  best  to  rise  above  it." 

"Oh,  are  you  discontented?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"  Only  with  myself.  I  feel  I  have  not  made  a  suc- 
cess of  marriage.  I  seem  to  have  lost  the  closeness 
with  all  of  you " 

John  looked  at  her  intently.  Something  cast  a  blur 
over  the  tired  little  woman,  and  in  her  place  he  saw  the 
old  lovely  Densie  in  her  going-away  gown  of  dove-col- 
ored broadcloth,  the  fussy  hat,  the  white  chenille  face 
veil.  He  was  a  young  bridegroom  again  flushed  with 
rosy  dreams ! 

He  put  his  arms  round  her.  "  Never  mind,  Densie,  I 
love  you,"  he  told  her,  to  her  amazement;  "  but  nowadays 
we  don't  have  time  for  lovemaking  like  Aunt  Sally  and 
Uncle  Herbert  used  to  have."  He  kissed  her  more  ten- 
derly than  he  had  for  months. 

"  John,  growing  old  together  ought  to  be  the  best  of 
all.  Let  us  find  time  for  it,"  she  begged. 

He  was  about  to  answer  when  Sally  bounded  in  the 

93 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

door,  her  party  cape  slipping'off  her  plump  pink  shoulders 
and  her  white-lace  frock  making  her  seem  like  a  figurine 
escape  from  a  drawing-room  cabinet. 

"  Why,  daddy  —  kissing  mummy  —  you  old  barbari- 
ans! Well?  What  have  you  to  say  for  yourselves  — 
eh?  "  She  shook  a  finger  at  them. 

John  spoke  first.  "  Why  have  you  not  told  us  you 
were  not  going  to  school?  "  His  voice  was  excited  and 
overloud. 

Densie  tried  to  be  more  gentle.  "  If  you  were  ill, 
Sally,  you  should  have  told  me." 

"  She  has  not  been  ill  —  look  at  her  I  "  Her  father 
pointed  an  accusing  finger. 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  answered  Sally  easily,  not 
at  all  alarmed,  "  but  I  hadn't  found  an  opportune  time 
—  when  you  were  both  home  and  both  in  a  good  humor ! 
Ho-hum,  what's  to  pay  whether  I  go  to  high  school  or 
not?  "  She  swung  airily  into  the  bedroom  to  throw  off 
her  wraps  and  return.  "  All  it  means,  father,  is  that  I 
want  to  take  painting  lessons  and  devote  my  whole  time 
to  it.  I  can't  go  to  school  and  paint  too  —  can  I?"  She 
smiled  her  prettiest. 

'  Why  did  you  deceive  us?  " 

"  I  didn't  —  exactly.  I've  been  going  to  a  studio  on 
Elm  Street.  I'm  competing  for  a  prize.  The  prize  is 
ten  free  lessons  from  Miss  Boechat.  I  had  to  work  very 
hard  too.  I  just  wanted  to  wait  to  tell  you  until  I  had 
won  the  prize.  Is  that  so  terrible?  You  let  Harriet 
go  to  New  York  to  study  what  she  wished  —  I'm  sure  I 
ought  to  have  the  same  right." 

"  Harriet  graduated  with  the  highest  honors " 

"  I  haven't  that  sort  of  brains.  I  want  to  paint  pretty 
useless  things,"  Sally  said  honestly,  "  and  drum  a  little 
on  the  piano  and  make  oodles  of  clothes  and  hats  and 

94 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

just  stay  at  home.  Daddy,  say  I  don't  have  to  go  back 
to  school  —  I  just  can't!  I'm  almost  sure  to  win  the 
prize;  and  if  I  do  I  think  I  have  the  right  to  stop  school 
and  study  art." 

John  hesitated,  looking  sideways  at  Densie. 

"  But  Sally,  dear,  an  artist  has  a  very  hard  life  unless 
he  has  great  commercial  ability  as  well.  Even  geniuses 
starve " 

"  Oh,  this  is  just  until  I  am  married."  Sally  dimpled 
prettily.  "  I  shan't  be  on  your  hands  long.  I  want  to 
have  something  to  do  between  now  and  twenty.  At 
twenty  I'm  sure  to  have  a  lovely,  lovely  husband !  " 

John  smiled  in  spite  of  himself.  "  Have  you  any  idea 
who  he  is  to  be,  my  dear?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  that's  the  fun  —  I  want  to  be  surprised." 

Densie  shook  her  head.  "  I  think  someone  named 
Sally  Plummer  ought  to  make  herself  go  back  to  school, 
graduate  properly  and  then  we  shall  see." 

"  Come,  Sally,  a  new  bonnet  if  you  do,"  offered  her 
father. 

Sally  shook  her  head.  "  No,  no,  no!  "  she  said  with 
a  flash  of  temper.  "  I  tell  you  I  will  not  study  books  any 
more !  I  cannot  sit  still  and  listen  to  homely  old  teachers 
tell  about  things  dead  and  gone  for  years.  I  can't  sing 
the  silly  little  songs  like  a  child,  and  drill  like  a  fireman, 
and  then  debate  on  some  awful  subject  that  you  have  to 
learn  how  to  pronounce.  I'm  growing  up  —  I'm  older 
than  Harriet  was  —  in  my  thoughts.  I  won't  be  a  child 
at  school.  I  want  to  learn  how  to  earn  my  own  living 
— *  just  until  I'm  twenty." 

Without  any  warning  she  threw  herself  across  the  divan 
and  began  to  sob. 

"  You  tend  to  her." 

John  disappeared  through  the  first  doorway. 

95 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  knelt  beside  Sally,  to  catch  murmurs  about  no 
school  —  married  at  twenty  —  hate  books  —  love  art  — 
won't  —  won't  —  run  away  —  be  chorus  girl  —  yes,  she 
could  — someone  told  her  so  —  oh,  someone  —  must  she 
publish  a  list  of  her  friends  ?  —  won't  —  won't  —  won't ! 

After  the  hysteria  was  expended  Densie  helped  her 
to  bed.  Then  the  tragic  side  of  neurotic  youth  was  up- 
permost. It  should  have  caused  Densie  to  smile,  but  she 
took  it  seriously.  She  had  never  been  a  victim  to  such 
nerves  as  Sally's. 

For  Sally  in  her  little  white  gown,  the  red-gold  hair  in 
thick  plaits,  stood  dramatically  in  the  doorway  and  said 
that  she  would  take  her  life  if  they  forced  her  to  go  back 
to  school ;  they  would  find  her  dead  the  day  they  tried  to 
send  her,  and  if  they  sent  her  to  a  convent  she  would 
starve  herself  to  death,  ending  with  an  altogether  un- 
heard-of and  unnecessary  oath  to  the  effect  that  she  would 
keep  this  pledge. 

Densie  was  horrified.  She  thought  with  quick  relief 
of  steady,  sane  Harriet,  as  cold  as  a  snow-capped  moun- 
tain, but  as  reliable.  This  tempestuous,  beautiful  child, 
slightly  mad  because  her  own  will  was  crossed,  was  far 
more  baffling  than  her  sister. 

"  Sally  darling,  are  you  ill?  Come  here,  let  me  feel 
your  forehead." 

'Will  you  promise?"  demanded  Sally  sullenly. 

"  Don't  make  me  promise  now  —  wait  until  to-mor- 
row." 

At  which  Sally  began  the  crying  all  over  again,  and 
after  another  nerve-racking  hour  Densie  had  weakly 
promised  that  Sally  need  not  go  back  to  school,  but  might 
continue  her  painting  until  she  married  the  "  lovely  hus- 
band "  at  twenty. 

96 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

When  she  told  John  he  seemed  relieved  it  was  no 
worse. 

"  You  didn't  use  to  have  such  scenes.  What  ailed  the 
child?  "  he  asked  Densie. 

"  No,  children  are  different  nowadays.  They  must 
do  what  they  want  to  do.  I  am  disappointed  at  her  not 
finishing  school;  it  isn't  proper.  I  should  not  have  forced 
her  beyond  that,  but  high  school  was  to  be  expected  of 
all  our  children." 

"  Well,  we've  Harriet  for  a  bluestocking  and  Sally 
for  a  butterfly  —  so  we  must  be  satisfied.  With  Sally's 
face  she'll  have  plenty  of  chances  to  marry,  and  I've  no 
doubt  the  little  villain  will  win  the  painting  prize." 

"  What  do  you  think  Kenneth  will  be?  " 

"  I  couldn't  say.  A  ladies'  hatter  from  the  way  he 
seems  afraid  to  fight  the  boys,"  John  answered  shortly. 

He  had  never  become  friends  with  his  son.  Instinc- 
tively the  boy  stayed  away  from  him.  If  his  father 
found  him  absorbed  with  a  story  or  fondling  some  stray 
dog  or  trying  to  cut  fanciful  patterns  from  colored  papers 
he  sent  him  roughly  outdoors  —  to  "  find  out  how  to  be 
a  boy,"  he  would  insist.  He  wanted  him  to  be  manly, 
as  he  called  it.  He  disliked  the  bookish  habit,  the  hours 
spent  by  himself  in  some  queer  play.  He  even  disliked 
his  physical  appearance,  though  he  would  hardly  admit 
this  to  himself.  "  A  pretty  young  lady,"  he  called  him 
to  Densie,  who  winced  under  the  criticism. 

Only  Densie  and  her  son  knew  the  happiness  they  found 
in  each  other.  She  even  took  him  to  club  meetings, 
where  he  would  sit,  grave  as  an  owl,  watching  his  moth- 
er's slightest  gesture  or  listening  eagerly  when  her  sweet 
little  voice  answered  "  Present "  at  roll  call.  Evenings 
when  they  were  alone  they  read  stories  or  made  up  even 

97 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

better  stories  which  ended  entirely  to  their  peace  of 
mind;  they  indulged  in  simple  games  or  drew  cartoons, 
and  Densie  would  play  on  the  piano  —  something  she 
never  dared  do  before  the  others.  When  she  had,  Har- 
riet would  leave  the  room,  John  would  demand  some- 
thing lively,  and  Sally  openly  ridicule  until  she  could  gain 
possession  of  the  pianoforte  and  dash  off  into  ragtime. 
But  Kenneth  loved  hymn  tunes  and  the  old  melodies,  and 
they  would  sing,  these  two,  when  their  spirits  were  com- 
pletely restored  from  family  pressure,  and  then  Densie 
would  be  prevailed  upon  to  make  taffy  or  white-honey 
candy,  and  the  evening  would  end  in  riotous  dissipation. 
But  this  was  never  told  the  others;  they  understood  that 
it  was  wiser  not,  since  nothing  blights  pleasure  so  much  as 
ridicule. 


IX 

The  next  morning  Sally,  rather  white-faced  and  hol- 
low-eyed after  her  brainstorm,  listened  to  Densie's  gentle 
admonition  about  her  studying  art;  and  also  to  the  fact 
that  her  mother  would  not  be  home  at  noon  and  she 
must  get  a  cold  lunch  for  Kenneth  and  herself  —  one  of 
the  clubs  was  having  a  luncheon. 

"  I  am  glad  you  and  father  appreciate  my  viewpoint," 
Sally  said  stiffly  as  Densie  finished.  "  When  I  am  mar- 
ried I  shall  repay  you  for  all  my  expenses !  " 

Densie  repressed  a  smile. 

Sally  set  about  the  morning's  work,  with  the  result  that 
Kenneth  came  home  to  an  empty  house  at  noon,  foraged 
bravely  for  his  lunch,  leaving  a  sticky  trail  of  maple  sirup 
across  the  kitchen  floor.  It  was  not  Sally's  intention  to 
slack.  But  she  had  had  a  fascinating  morning  at  the 
studio.  Miss  Boechat  liked  Sally  because  she  was  bright 
and  pretty,  and  she  had  told  the  girl  untruths  as  to  her 
possibilities.  She  knew  Sally's  father  was  a  reliable  busi- 
ness man,  and  steady  pupils  were  scarce.  So  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  morning  she  announced  that  Sally  Plummer 
had  won  the  prize  of  ten  painting  lessons,  and  Sally,  gaz- 
ing fondly  at  her  foolish  little  picture  of  two  miniature 
deer  in  a  huge  park  overhung  with  fat  green  trees,  told 
herself  with  a  solemn  seriousness  that  art  was  to  be  her 
lifework  as  statistics  were  Harriet's,  and  that  the  future 
bridegroom  must  be  a  world-famous  artist  who  would 
bow  before  her  superior  talent  and  beg  her  hand  in  wed- 
lock. 

She  told  Miss  Boechat  her  father  would  allow  her  to 

99 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

study  regularly,  at  which  Miss  Boechat  kissed  her  raptur- 
ously and  said  she  was  going  to  make  her  father  prouder 
than  he  ever  imagined.  By  this  time  it  was  noon  and 
Sally  regretfully  tore  herself  away  from  the  fascinating 
semi-Bohemian  studio  where  Miss  Boechat  worked  and 
lived.  She  was  a  mysterious  Miss  Boechat,  who  had 
seen  much  sadness,  she  told  Sally.  She  was  addicted  to 
perfumes  and  cosmetics,  and  dressed  in  an  old-rose  man- 
darin coat  that  made  Sally's  eyes  sparkle  with  approval. 
There  were  seven  men  who  wished  to  marry  her,  she  also 
confided  to  her  prize  pupil;  and  Sally  had  listened  eagerly 
to  the  stories  concerning  each  and  Miss  Boechat's  stern 
refusal  to  give  up  her  art.  It  was  a  wonderful  way  to 
live,  Sally  believed,  in  a  big  studio  with  a  fireplace  and 
tapestries  and  rugs  and  all  manner  of  pictures,  busts  and 
modeling  clay.  Behind  a  gorgeous  green-silk  screen  was 
an  eternally  unmade  cot  bed,  some  disreputable  cooking 
materials  and  a  line  of  Miss  Boechat's  washing.  This 
was  her  "  home  " —  but  no  one  ever  saw  that  or  the 
piles  of  dust  that  she  methodically  swept  under  the  cot 
bed  and  left  there  until  she  had  a  general  cleaning.  Sally 
planned  to  have  a  similar  studio  and  live  like  Miss 
Boechat  and  wear  just  such  a  rose  mandarin  coat  and 
black-satin  skirt  and  have  her  hair  piled  high  on  her  head 
and  crowned  by  a  carved  comb.  Life  would  be  very 
beautiful  then  —  with  studio  teas  for  admiring  patrons 
and  her  pupils  adoring  her  and  bringing  her  flowers  and 
candy  and  trinkets,  and  seven  strong  serious-minded  men 
of  fame  and  wealth  all  begging  for  her  hand. 

She  wandered  along  in  this  reverie  until  she  unex- 
pectedly met  Dean  Laddbarry,  who  was  taking  a  post- 
graduate course  at  the  high  school. 

'Why,   Sally,"  he  said  happily;   "if  this  isn't  luck! 
For  heaven's  sake,  where  have  you  been?     If  you  hadn't 

100 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

told  me  I  must  not  come  I'd  have  been  over  ages  ago. 
Where  are  you  bound  for?"  He  tucked  her  arm 
through  his  with  a  possessive  air. 

Sally  demurred.  "  Take  me  to  luncheon,  Dean,"  she 
said  with  the  air  of  a  woman  of  the  world.  "  I've  some- 
thing important  to  tell  you." 

Dean  halted.  "  Wait  till  I  see  how  much  I've  got  on 
me.  You  know  I'm  saving  up,  Sally,  and  those  last  flow- 
ers you  wanted  came  pretty  high " 

"How  horrid  to  stand  and  count  money!"  Sally 
stamped  her  foot.  "  Most  of  the  men  I  know  " —  she 
had  in  imagination  adopted  the  seven  suitors  of  Miss 
Boechat — u  have  rolls  of  money,  just  rolls  of  it!  And 
they  never  consider  the  price  of  anything  —  if  I  wish  it." 

"  Maybe  they  don't,  but  I  have  to,"  he  answered  with 
the  curtness  of  nineteen  years.  "  Here's  a  dollar  and  a 
half  —  can  you  eat  on  that?  " 

"  In  some  tea  room;  I  wanted  to  do  one  of  the  hotels." 

Sally  tossed  her  head  and  walked  on,  Dean  following. 

"With  whom  did  you  ever  go  to  a  hotel?"  he  de- 
manded. "  I  bet  your  mother  didn't  know.  Sally  Plum- 
mer,  you're  only  a  kid,  and  you  better  stay  away  from 
them.  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about  too." 

"  I  go  to  hotels  with  my  friends,"  Sally  insisted,  im- 
agination becoming  reality.  "  Here  is  this  Sisters  Three 
place  —  shall  we  try  it?  " 

'  Will  your  mother  mind  —  shall  we  phone?  " 

"  She  isn't  home  and  Ken  can  get  something  for  him- 
self." 

So  they  turned  into  a  tea  room  and  sought  a  secluded 
table.  Sally  was  really  ashamed  of  Dean's  clothes,  the 
everyday  blue-serge  clothes  of  a  nineteen-year-old  boy 
who  was  going  to  amount  to  something.  The  careless 
wav  that  the  blue  tie  was  worn,  the  soft  gray  shirt,  the 

101 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

dusty  felt  hat,  the  lack  of  gloves  and  the  tramping  boots 
—  all  told  their  story.  Dean's  ambition  was  to  own 
something  big  and  out  of  doors  where  he  could  expend 
his  endless  energy  yet  use  his  brains  as  well.  He  was 
planning  to  go  to  the  oil  country  in  Wyoming  as  soon  as 
it  was  possible. 

"Well,  what  about  it,  Sally?"  He  smiled  at  her, 
thinking  she  was  the  most  beautiful  girl  that  had  ever 
existed. 

"  I'm  going  to  study  art,  Dean.  I've  won  a  prize  at 
Miss  Boechat's  school  and  father  says  I  needn't  go  back 
to  high  school.  Isn't  that  wonderful?  I  shall  study 
abroad  and  live  there  for  some  time,"  she  supplemented. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  graduate?  " 

"  How  silly  to  waste  the  time.  You  see  I  have  a 
great  deal  of  talent  —  and  I  simply  have  to  paint.  Miss 
Boechat  said  it  was  born  in  me." 

"  Oh,  well,  when  are  you  figuring  on  going  abroad?  " 

"  In  a  year  or  so."  Sally  was  delighted  with  Dean's 
discomfiture. 

'  You  couldn't  go  alone,  Sally,  you're  so  young." 

"  But  an  art  student  is  different.  I  may  marry  a  for- 
eigner and  never  return.  I  think  it  might  be  more  con- 
genial. American  women  have  to  do  such  a  lot  of  house- 
work —  even  nice  men  like  father  don't  spare  their  wives. 
Look  at  poor  mummy;  she  used  to  be  beautiful  and  have 
pretty  clothes  and  everything  —  when  she  was  at  The 
Evergreensi  Then  she  married  father  and  she  has 
worked  ever  since.  I  don't  want  to  be  like  mummy." 
1  Your  mother  has  done  her  part,"  said  Dean  soberly 
before  attacking  a  sandwich. 

"  I'm  going  to  choose  a  different  part.  Of  course, 
if  I  marry  a  foreigner,  I'll  never  see  you  again  —  but  I 
wish  you  all  the  success  in  the  world." 

102 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  You  better  make  that  good-by  a  little  later." 

"  Fate  is  a  queer  force  —  we  may  not  see  each  other 
much  longer!  " 

Dean's  eyebrows  drew  together  in  a  straight  line. 
"  If  you  knew  how  much  I  liked  you,"  he  said  forcibly; 
"  but  I  think  you  do  —  and  when  I  make  my  share  of 
money  you're  going  to  marry  me." 

Sally  giggled  excitedly.  "  Silly  boy  —  as  if  I  would  1 
Why,  Dean  dear,  I  want  an  artist  for  a  husband;  some- 
one who  understands." 

Dean's  common  sense  came  to  the  rescue.  '  We 
neither  one  ought  to  be  talking  about  such  things.  I  want 
to  tell  you  that  you  are  making  a  whale  of  a  mistake  by 
stopping  school  and  letting  that  woman  get  you  all  ex- 
cited about  art.  It  may  be  so  and  it  may  not  be  so.  I 
know  you're  bright,  Sally,  and  all  that  —  but  you  can't 
tell  yet.  If  you  were  to  stay  with  your  mother  and  learn 
the  things  she  knows  it  might  be  a  lot  bettef  later  on." 

"  Don't  you  speak  to  me  for  a  week!  "  Sally  retorted. 
"  Why,  I  never  heard  of  any  gentleman's  telling  a  lady 
any  such  things !  " 

"  I'm  not  a  gentleman  and  you  are  not  a  lady."  He 
reached  his  tanned  hand  across  the  table.  "  I  always 
liked  you  and  you  liked  me  —  way  deep  —  but  you  just 
won't  admit  it.  Come  on,  'fess  up  —  you  do  like  me?  " 

"  I  did  until  you  insulted  me,"  she  said  icily,  and 
despite  his  protests  she  refused  to  relent  and  let  him 
escort  her  home.  He  left  her  on  the  corner  and  went 
his  way,  minus  his  money  and  his  peace  of  mind.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  her  plans  must  all  be  checked,  and  he 
wondered  if  Densie  Plummer  would  not  take  a  firm  hand 
in  the  so  doing. 

Returning  from  the  club  luncheon  Densie  met  Dean, 
so  he  walked  home  with  Sally's  mother  if  not  with  Sally. 

103 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  was  tired  and  she  had  a  large  bundle;  she  had 
loaned  half  her  silverware  to  adorn  the  table  and  had 
washed  all  of  the  dishes.  It  occurred  to  her  that  some  of 
the  women  with  machines  might  have  offered  to  take  her 
home;  it  was  the  least  they  coald  do  after  devouring  her 
salad  dressing  and  eating  her  cake!  It  was  slowly  im- 
pressing itself  on  Densie  that  even  nice  people  will  use 
you  if  they  can,  and  that  she  had  not  emancipated  herself 
from  the  drudgery.  She  smiled  with  relief  as  Dean 
shouldered  the  bundle. 

He  told  her  about  meeting  Sally  and  what  she  had 
said.  Densie  frowned. 

"  I  should  have  been  there  to  get  Kenneth's  lunch  — 
but  I  thought  Sally  would  go  home,  as  she  was  told. 
Don't  pay  any  attention  to  her,  Dean.  She  is  just  living 
in  a  fairy  tale  all  her  own.  I  cannot  force  her  to  go  to 
school;  her  father  says  she  was  born  to  be  a  butterfly. 
I  was  engaged  when  I  was  seventeen." 

"  She  says  she  wants  to  marry  a  foreigner,"  grieved 
Dean  in  boy  fashion.  It  was  a.  strange  relief  to  tell  his 
sorrows  to  the  mother  of  the  girl  he  adored. 

"  Little  goose !  Wait  a  few  years.  Don't  give  up 
hope !  Get  your  ranch  or  your  gold  mine  and  plug  away. 
You'll  win  Sally  over  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe." 
Densie  laughed  up  at  the  tall  boy,  who  was  staring  mood 
ily  into  the  distance. 

'  Won't  you  come  in?  "  she  asked  as  they  reached  the 
flat. 

"Sally  said  I  couldn't — for  a  week,"  he  answered 
stoically. 

"  Oh,  these  children !  "  Densie  patted  him  on  the 
shoulder  and  came  up  the  steps,  noticing  that  Mrs.  Sulli- 
van had  not  cleaned  as  was  her  turn  to  do,  and  that  she, 

104 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie,  must  do  so  before  the  place  was  an  utter  dis- 
grace. This  turn  and  turn  about  arrangement  in  flats 
is  not  always  satisfactory.  It  had  been  Densie  who  had 
mopped  the  porch  faithfully  and  seen  to  the  lawn  and 
various  other  details  while  Mrs.  Sullivan  had  seen  to 
her  summer  wardrobe  and  the  whiteness  of  her  hands. 

That  winter  and  spring  Sally's  lessons  with  Miss 
Boechat  were  far-reaching  in  their  effects.  It  was  not 
long  before  she  was  taking  design  and  modeling  work  as 
well.  This  meant  she  must  be  away  all  day  and  that  she 
lunched  downtown.  Sometimes  it  was  with  her  father  or 
with  Miss  Boechat,  and  other  times,  unbeknownst  to 
Densie,  it  was  with  art  students,  older  men  and  women, 
sophisticated  idlers,  who  told  her  many  new  and  startling 
things.  Sally  changed  during  the  spring  of  1903  into  a 
more  beautiful  Sally  than  before,  but  utterly  useless  save 
for  her  "  art " —  coming  home  unwillingly  at  night  to 
dawdle  about,  making  a  pretense  of  doing  housework,  but 
flying  in  relief  to  her  room  to  rig  up  some  irresistible 
costume  out  of  odds  and  ends. 

There  was  no  denying  her  knack  for  so  doing  or  in 
dressing  her  hair  a  dozen  different  ways  or  dreaming  wild 
possibilities  —  those  unhealthy  dreams  of  adolescent  girl- 
hood —  always  concerning  impossible  triumphs  and 
achievements,  in  which  she  was  the  adored  heroine  and 
victor  of  all  the  world;  married  happily  and  adored;  and 
then  having  unhappiness  steal  in,  some  interesting  tragedy 
in  which  she  played  a  noble  and  spectacular  part;  then  a 
period  of  renunciation,  during  which  she  should  paint 
some  great  masterpiece  —  a  Madonna,  very  likely,  and 
it  would  be  purchased  by  a  nobleman.  He  would  seek  out 
the  artist,  woo  her  ardently,  marry  her,  take  her  off 

in  a  whirl  of  excitement  to  his  castle And  on  and 

105 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

on  these  day  dreams  would  extend,  with  Sally  always 
playing  the  talented,  beautiful,  flawless  woman  who  ruled 
by  a  smile  or  a  nod  of  her  red-gold  head. 

In  her  imagination  she  clothed  herself  in  ermine,  sables, 
velvet,  brocaded  satins,  jewels  worth  a  king's  ransom; 
she  drove  imported  French  motors,  she  became  a  racing 
champion,  a  champion  mountain  climber,  a  champion 
swimmer  —  everything  that  the  world  did  Sally  did  and 
excelled  in  doing,  according  to  her  dreams.  She  even 
evolved  a  set  of  fictitious  characters  with  whom  she  lived 
and  who  dulled  the  realities  of  the  crowded  modern  little 
flat,  the  silent  brother-child,  the  tired  mother  trying  to  be- 
come free  of  care,  and  a  handsome  father  who  was  seldom 
home!  As  Harriet  put  her  soul  into  her  work  so  Sally 
put  hers  into  dreams.  It  was  not  an  uncommon  experi- 
ence, youth  must  always  pass  through  a  period  of  exag- 
geration in  some  form,  and  better  that  it  was  in  dreams 
safe  within  her  home  than  in  the  world  without. 

These  imaginary  characters  were  interesting.  They 
consisted  of  an  extremely  rich  old  grandfather  who  adored 
her  and  showered  her  with  luxury;  a  young  handsome 
man,  Jack,  who  wished  to  marry  her  —  but  he  was  poor! 
Then  there  was  a  wealthy  elderly  gentleman,  Mr.  Bryan 
Montague,  a  despised  suitor  but  a  persistent  one,  who 
sent  her  ten  pounds  of  chocolates  and  a  few  dozen  orchids, 
in  which  black-pearl  trifles  were  concealed,  two  or  three 
times  each  week!  Besides  these  Sally  had  conceived  of 
a  haughty  duchess  spending  the  winter  on  the  Riviera  — 
they  were  all  on  the  Riviera  in  fact  —  and  her  son,  Duke 
de  Chaumont,  an  artistic  genius,  cousin  to  all  the  royal 
families  in  Europe!  After  very  thrilling  escapades  with 
each,  and  her  tender  heart  pitying  poor  Jack  and  being 
gentle  but  firm  with  Mr.  Montague,  her  duke  says  he  will 
play  pirate  and  capture  her,  and  so  they  are  married 

106 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

only  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  real  pirates  while  on  their 
wedding  journey,  and  Sally,  the  fair  young  duchess  now, 
being  dragged  off  to  a  Turkish  harem  and  besieged  by 
the  young  handsome  sultan  to  rule  over  the  land  —  her 
wonderful  poise  and  bravery  —  her  outwitting  him,  her 
escape  —  and  so  on. 

It  was  little  wonder  Sally  refused  to  darn  her  stockings 
or  to  eat  enough  breakfast  and  would  not  wear  proper 
winter  clothing,  to  Densie's  anxiety,  but  went  forth  clad 
in  shimmery  chiffon  waists  showing  her  full  white  neck, 
and  dancing  pumps  with  white  spats  to  attract  attention, 
a  gold-lace  hat,  suitable  for  best,  Densie  considered,  and 
white  chamois  gloves  scented  with  triple  wild  rose. 

Densie  did  not  suspect  this  day  dreaming,  but  she 
disapproved  of  Sally's  frittering  away  time  and  strength, 
her  endless  beaus  —  older  men  than  Densie  liked,  who 
seemed  ill  at  ease  in  the  flat,  but  who  Sally  declared  were 
perfectly  ripping  at  the  various  studio  dances. 

Once  Densie  plucked  up  courage  to  go  to  Miss  Boechat 
and  ask  if  she  did  not  think  Sally  merely  had  a  great  lik- 
ing for  art  and  the  rather  indolent  life  it  incurred  rather 
than  sufficient  talent  to  persevere  unto  the  heights.  She 
disapproved  of  Miss  Boechat,  whom  she  found  in  a 
bizarre,  sophisticated  negligee  —  the  sort  that  is  not  quite 
nice  for  an  unmarried  woman  to  possess  —  and  smoking 
a  cigarette. 

Scenting  the  loss  of  a  pupil  Miss  Boechat  was  vehement 
in  superlative  praise.  Sally  was  a  budding  genius,  a  beau- 
tiful creature;  kindly  allow  her  to  develop  as  she  would. 
Miss  Boechat  adored  her  as  her  own  child  —  and  she  felt 
that  Sally  was  not  quite  happy  in  her  home;  too  conven- 
tional, perhaps? 

All  the  time  her  hard  bright  eyes  stared  at  Densie's 
shabby  bonnet  and  mended  glove  tips;  and  Densie,  dis- 

107 


A  WOMAN'S  WOiMAN 

comfited  by  the  arrival  of  some  pupils,  went  away  real- 
izing that  she  could  not  interfere  with  Sally's  life  any 
more  than  she  could  with  Harriet's  career. 

She  spent  a  happy  evening  with  Kenneth  —  Sally  was 
at  a  dance  —  playing  dominoes  and  popping  corn  and 
talking  about  "  when  mummy  is  old  and  Kenneth  is  grown 
up  and  he  buys  her  a  little  country  house  and  comes  to 
see  her!  "  They,  too,  were  day  dreaming. 

Harriet's  letters  grew  more  brief  and  her  printed  ac- 
counts of  her  work  more  numerous.  She  was  doing  re- 
markably well,  and  when  the  vacation  came  she  stayed 
on  in  New  York  as  assistant  secretary  to  one  of  the  prin- 
cipals, thereby  earning  her  way  and  saving  her  father, 
who  rejoiced  at  the  good  fortune. 

Densie  did  not  miss  Harriet  —  it  was  a  numbed  emo- 
tion she  had  for  her.  Besides,  she  was  so  sure  of  Har- 
riet in  certain  ways.  She  was  not  sure  about  Sally;  she 
heard  rumors  that  Sally  went  to  hotels  with  men,  and 
to  dances  where  she  had  strange  partners;  and  she 
shielded  these  rumors  from  her  husband  because  she  knew 
he  would  only  splutter  and  blame  her,  naturally;  and  it 
would  increase  Sally's  obstinacy. 

She  had  never  become  neighborly  with  the  Sullivans, 
and  the  old  friends  had  stopped  coming  to  see  her.  She 
lived  so  far  away  from  them,  and  besides,  when  they 
came  it  was  often  evident  they  were  not  wanted.  Lucy 
Parks  and  Maude  Hatton  still  came  Sundays,  but  Sam 
Hippler  waited  for  a  special  invitation,  which  was  as 
seldom  as  was  decent,  John  declared. 

If  she  had  not  had  club  interests  she  would  have  been 
very  lonely;  even  being  fag  for  the  clubs  was  a  change, 
though  it  was  far  from  what  she  had  anticipated.  She 
joined  an  English  Reading  Club  because  they  served  no 
refreshments  and  she  saw  a  loophole  from  cooking  and 

1 08 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

washing  dishes.  But  the  reading  class  devoted  half  their 
time  to  current  topics,  and  Densie  was  detailed  with 
scissors  and  paste  pot  to  cut  out  the  things  of  interest 
and  get  them  in  shape  for  discussion,  and  she  also  was 
elected  corresponding  secretary,  because  she  wrote  such 
a  "  dear  little  hand,"  and  because  no  one  else  wanted 
the  task  of  addressing  numerous  envelopes  and  licking 
the  postage  stamps.  Kenneth  sealed  and  stamped  the 
envelopes.  He  was  quite  happy  when  Densie  would 
clear  off  a  corner  of  the  old  secretary  and  let  him  work 
with  her. 

And  Densie,  industriously  going  through  the  mem- 
bership list,  would  be  thinking:  "  I'll  surely  be  entitled 
to  just  study  the  topics  next  year  —  and  what  was  it  we 
were  to  learn  —  some  anecdote  about  Queen  Anne?" 
quite  oblivious  of  John's  unmended  house  coat  and  Sally's 
disorderly  room  and  the  fact  that  Kenneth  must  take  an 
iron  tonic  —  and  then  all  of  these  things  would  descend 
upon  her  suddenly  and  destroy  any  intellectual  aspira- 
tions. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1904  that  Densie  realized  the 
extent  of  politics  in  women's  clubs;  the  fact  that  when 
she  was  sent  as  delegate  to  the  city  federation  and  en- 
titled to  a  vote  she  was  suddenly  wooed  as  ardently  as  if 
she  were  Sally. 

A  woman  unknown  to  her  save  through  her  name,  a 
shining  star  in  the  club  world,  drove  up  to  the  flat  and 
insisted  on  taking  her  through  the  parks.  Densie  h^si- 
tated,  dismayed  at  her  shabbiness,  but  the  woman,  Mrs. 
Worthington  Prescott,  insisted,  paying  her  several  flow- 
ery compliments  —  mostly  about  her  cooking  —  and  se- 
curing Densie's  promise  to  vote  for  her  as  vice-president. 

Mrs.  Prescott  never  recognized  her  after  the  meeting 
and  her  successful  election.  Another  woman  sent  her 

109 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

violets  and  a  pretty  little  note  stating  her  hope  of  being 
treasurer  and  urging  her  great  influence  to  help  matters 
along;  and  still  another  came  to  call  and  purred  graciously 
about  everything  in  the  flat  and  said  Kenneth  had  a  re- 
markably well-shaped  head  and  that  she  hoped  he  would 
prove  as  brilliant  as  his  little  mother. 

Densie  smiled  at  this  last.  It  seemed  to  her  she  would 
either  have  to  stop  housework  or  else  her  attempts  at  club 
life. 

"Have  I  a  soul  above  a  frying  pan?  "  she  demanded 
of  herself  as  she  stood  over  the  stove  that  night. 

She  began  again  to  debate  the  unfair  division  of  labor 
between  the  middle-class  man  and  woman.  She  con- 
trasted John's  spick-and-span  grooming  each  morning,  his 
leaving  the  house  not  to  return  until  night,  confident  of 
a  good  dinner,  his  splendid  free  day  in  the  world,  meeting 
new  people,  minds  sharpening  minds,  ideas  arguing  with 
ideas,  each  gaining  a  fresh  viewpoint,  a  firmer  convic- 
tion, a  new  perspective  —  she  envied  him.  And  if  he 
did  not  feel  inclined  to  return  he  need  not  —  he  was  head 
of  the  family,  and  business  was  a  vast  and  expansive  ex- 
cuse. 

He  needed  clubs  for  his  business  and  banquets  for  his 
political  aims  and  good  clothes  and  vacations  for  ap- 
pearance and  mental  relaxation,  and  Densie  had  always 
adoringly  agreed. 

After  three  years  of  flat  life  she  began  to  rebel  anew 
—  just  as  she  had  done  back  at  the  Little  House.  She 
saw  no  goal  ahead.  Her  daughters  were  both  engrossed 
in  their  own  interests;  her  husband  more  and  more  care- 
less of  her,  less  the  husband  and  more  the  man  of  the 
world.  She  realized  that  it  took  money,  position  and 
personality  to  be  a  successful  club  or  society  woman. 
Women  campaigned  as  men  did  —  these  clubs  that  Densie 

1 10 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

had  joined  were  not  of  good  standing;  they  were  called 
"  the  pussy-willow  variety."  They  had  seemed  elegant 
to  Densie  —  she  was  fond  of  old-fashioned  adjectives, 
such  as  elegant  and  grand,  and  she  used  them,  though  her 
family  promptly  informed  her  that  only  shop-girls  in- 
cluded them  in  their  vocabularies. 

The  clubs  that  would  really  give  Densie  mental  stimulus 
and  soul  massage  were  far  beyond  her  —  as  yet.  She  had 
only  burnt  up  the  chops  by  ruminating  at  length  over  the 
situation. 


in 


X 

The  Sullivans  moved  in  the  spring,  and  a  distressing 
crew,  the  Hendersons,  came  in  their  stead  —  three  chil- 
dren, the  father,  mother  and  an  aunt;  and  they  took  upon 
themselves  the  liberty  of  running  up  to  Densie  to  bor- 
row everything  that  they  needed  to  make  life  livable! 

"  They've  got  the  lend-me's,"  Kenneth  said.  "  Lend 
me  this  and  lend  me  that;  and  by  heck,  mummy,  they've 
bought  the  place  —  the  littlest  boy  told  me  so !  So 
there's  no  chance  for  them  to  move  in  a  year." 

And  he  sat  down  rather  pensively,  though  an  hour 
later  Densie  saw  him  playing  with  the  children,  and  she 
consoled  herself  by  the  thought  that  it  might  be  a  good 
thing  for  Kenneth. 

The  noise  they  made  was  intolerable,  but  their  in- 
fluence worse.  Kenneth  soon  learned  to  swear  in  a  fin- 
ished fashion  and  he  defied  his  mother  —  the  boys  down- 
stairs did  and  "  got  by  with  it,"  and  he  mocked  Sally  and 
became  an  unmanageable  sort  of  young  person. 

John  was  traveling  most  of  the  time,  so  he  escaped 
the  discomfort.  He  thought  the  newcomers  all  right  and 
told  Densie  to  pay  no  attention.  If  they  wanted  some 
eggs  —  why,  give  them  some  eggs,  and  when  she  saw  the 
grocery  man  coming  in  with  eggs  for  the  Hendersons  — 
well,  go  right  downstairs  and  borrow  some  eggs  in  the 
name  of  Plummer !  That  was  the  man's  solution.  The 
woman's  was  different.  If  one  did  not  return  eggs  volun- 
tarily —  why,  there  would  never  be  anything  said,  but 
it  would  rankle;  and  when  one's  garden  hose,  rake,  mops, 
baking  powder,  butter,  gravy  ladle  and  bowl,  soup  plates, 

112 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Castile  soap  and  best  table  cloth  were  In  turn  trotted  down- 
stairs and  not  trotted  back  without  a  great  deal  of  dip- 
lomatic hinting,  things  became  strained  and  Densie 
learned  what  it  means  to  live  in  a  flat  with  someone  who 
is  not  affable  and  who  is  addicted  to  the  loan-me's. 

Mr.  Henderson's  being  the  landlord  added  an  extra 
gloom.  The  boys  pummeled  Kenneth  and  played  sneak 
tricks  on  him,  chawing  beef  with  his  white  blouse  and 
throwing  his  hat  up  on  a  roof;  they  deliberately  tracked 
in  mud  on  Densie's  side  of  the  vestibule,  and  called  names 
after  Sally  when  she  trotted  out  to  art  school  dressed  in 
all  her  finery. 

However,  Mr.  Plummer  paid  his  rent  and  the  Hender- 
sons appreciated  the  fact,  so  they  managed  to  agree  to 
disagree,  Kenneth  bearing  the  brunt  of  the  enmity.  It 
was  not  pleasant.  They  felt  as  if  they  had  taken  rooms 
temporarily,  Densie  was  unsettled  and  ill  at  ease,  and 
when  her  clubs  met  for  the  fall  she  was  lackluster,  almost 
afraid  to  take  part  in  them.  She  had  a  premonition  that 
the  Henderson  boys  would  set  fire  to  the  house  if  she 
left  it  too  much  alone. 

Sally  laughed  at  her  fears.  Like  her  father  Sally 
was  seldom  home.  She  had  quarreled  with  Dean;  he 
said  she  rouged  like  an  actress  and  men  turned  to  look 
after  her  on  the  street,  while  Sally,  angered  to  the  ut- 
most, told  him  not  to  speak  to  her  until  she  saw  fit.  Dean 
was  two  years  older  and  two  years  wiser  than  Sally,  and 
he  took  her  at  her  word.  She  missed  Dean  —  he  had 
always  been  about,  no  matter  what  she  wanted  or  when 
or  where.  But  Dean  had  made  up  his  mind  to  show 
Sally  that  he  could  exist  without  her. 

"  Of  course,  he  is  only  Dean,"  she  wrote  Harriet,  feel- 
ing she  must  have  a  confidante;  the  dreams  and  the  dream 
characters  had  become  a  trifle  shopworn  and  monotonous, 

"3 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  she  had  reached  that  ridiculous  stage  wherein  chil- 
dren feel  that  their  mothers  cannot  understand  them. 
Harriet  was  her  only  available  outlet,  and  Harriet  having 
been  away  so  long  had  assumed  kindly  and  unreal  memo- 
ries and  possibilities.  "  Still,  I  do  miss  him,  he  was  so 
obliging;  and  I  suppose  he  is  very  wonderful  to  study 
the  way  he  does  and  work  at  the  same  time.  But  I  am 
no  child,  sister  dear,  and  I  cannot  let  my  personality  be 
submerged.  How  I  envy  you  in  New  York,  free  to  do 
as  you  like  and  study  as  you  wish.  I  could  never  study 
as  you  do  because  I'm  only  Sally  and  cannot  understand 
those  awful  problems  you  say  you  adore  to  understand 
—  but  some  day  I  am  coming  to  New  York  as  an  artist 
and  have  a  studio  and  live  in  smocks  and  sandals  if  I  like, 
and  poor  mummy  won't  have  to  fuss  about  me." 

Here  Sally  inclosed  a  drawing  of  her  Bohemian  future 
with  the  sink  used  as  a  writing  desk  and  her  folding  bed 
supposedly  a  luxurious  bit  of  paneled  woodwork  to  the 
outside.  "  I  have  done  well  with  my  work,  but  I  have 
no  encouragement  or  sympathy  at  home.  Harriet,  I 
feel  we  are  women  now  and  can  talk  frankly  about  our 
parents.  Poor  daddy!  Mummy  is  so  quiet  and  tired 
he  finds  her  a  bore  and  so  he  stays  away.  Daddy  has 
quite  a  time  keeping  things  afloat,  and  whenever  he 
wishes  to  discharge  Sam  Hippler  mummy  cries  and  gets 
out  all  her  old  photograph  albums.  Harry,  dear,  isn't 
she  too  absurd? 

'  Then,  I'm  sorry  for  mummy,  because  she  does  want 
to  stop  housekeeping,  and  read  things  and  go  to  her 
funny  little  clubs.  Kenneth  is  positively  a  hoodlum  these 
days;  the  Henderson  boys  have  taught  him  terrible  things, 
but  maybe  it  is  good  for  him.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know. 
I  feel  I  have  my  own  self  to  develop  properly  so  as  to 
give  the  best  of  myself  to  the  world  through  the  medium- 

114 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

^hip  of  my  art  and  I  cannot  decide  the  destinies  of  oth- 
ers." 

Reading  this  over  Sally  decided  it  sounded  very  well, 
so  she  closed  the  letter  abruptly  lest  she  make  a  mistake 
and  enrage  her  learned  sister.  She  inclosed  some  sample 
menu  cards  which  she  had  made  for  her  father's  club, 
and  added  naively:  "These  are  just  'spot  knockers' 
—  I  am  going  in  for  portrait  painting." 

Harriet  being  equally  unfamiliar  with  Sally  responded 
cordially,  saying  she  understood  the  situation  and  that 
Sally  must  remember,  first  of  all,  she  was  a  human  being, 
and  she  must  not  stunt  her  mental  growth  or  her  natural 
abilities.  She  hoped  Sally  would  come  to  New  York  as 
an  artist  and  thus  find  herself,  and  she  thought  it  lament- 
able that  mummy  was  so  helpless. 

By  the  time  the  letter  reached  Sally  a  frivolous  mood 
had  overtaken  her  and  she  was  intent  on  new  frocks  and 
the  art  of  making  gold-tinsel  slippers  by  giving  white 
ones  several  coats  of  luster  paint.  Harriet's  letter 
sounded  prosy  and  old-maidish  and  she  crinkled  up  her 
little  forehead  thoughtfully  as  she  debated  which  she 
would  rather  be  —  a  famous  artist  or  the  leader  of  New 
York  society,  the  latter  winning  without  much  of  an 
effort.  She  called  up  Dean  Laddbarry  and  told  him  to 
come  and  see  her  that  evening,  and  when  he  did  she 
even  made  candy  for  him  and  said  she  had  only  been 
fooling  about  being  mad,  thereby  readjusting  the  rose- 
colored  spectacles  before  his  honest  gray  eyes  and  making 
Densie  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  Sally's  becoming  like 
other  girls. 

New  Year's,  1905,  brought  an  important  event  into 
Densie's  life.  As  usual  Harriet  had  avoided  a  home 
vacation.  Through  quiet  ingenuity  on  her  part  Densie 
had  been  made  delegate  to  a  midwinter  New  York  con- 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

vention  of  clubs.     She  mentioned  this  to  John  with  the 
added  wish  that  he  attend. 

"  You  always  say  you  ought  to  go  to  New  York 
more,  and  you  have  not  been  there  once  since  Harriet 
went  to  school.  Let  us  combine  interests  and  go  for  a 
week.  It  is  not  right  to  have  Harriet  a  stranger,  and 
Sally  is  old  enough  to  run  the  house  and  look  after 
Kenneth.  I  was  married  when  I  was  nineteen." 

John  debated  the  matter;  it  did  not  altogether  suit 
him.  He  would  want  to  do  things  Densie  would  dis- 
approve of  doing,  and  though  Harriet  was  an  inducement 
he  began  to  think  up  excuses  why  he  should  remain  home. 

"  But  we  haven't  been  on  a  trip  together  since  Aunt 
Sally  died.  Before  that  I  could  leave  the  children  with 
her.  We  went  to  Washington  and  to  Pittsburgh  and  that 
fishing  trip  up  in  Canada  —  don't  you  remember?  I'd 
like  to  see  how  it  feels  to  go  traveling  with  my  husband." 

She  spoke  lightly,  but  her  lips  trembled. 

"  Oh,  if  that's  the  case" — John  good-naturedly  laid 
aside  his  paper — "I  suppose  it's  all  settled.  That's  a 
fact,  Densie,  we  haven't  been  anywhere  together,  have 
we?" 

"  And  I  haven't  been  to  church  in  four  months,"  she 
finished  her  confession.  "  We  are  getting  to  be  back- 
sliders." 

"  Let's  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  join  some  social  clubs,  do 
good  theaters  this  winter.  Hang  it  all,  we're  not  old! 
I'm  sure  I'm  not.  And  with  the  children  nearly  grown 
and  Kenneth  such  a  lamb  there's  no  reason  to  be  tied 
down." 

I  haven't  noticed  that  you  were,"  she  said  demurely. 

"  Business  would  have  gone  to  the  wall  if  I  had  stayed 
by  the  fire  like  an  old  man,"  he  objected  testily.  "  I've 

tried  to  make  you  understand " 

116 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Oh,  I  did,  John,  truly.  It  is  just  that  all  at  once 
I  wanted  to  go  away  some  place  else  besides  this  city  and 
this  flat,  to  have  someone  else  cook  my  meals  and  think 
about  locking  the  door  at  night.  It  has  been  a  long  time 
since  I  have  had  a  vacation.  You  see,  the  delegate's  ex- 
penses are  paid,  and  that  makes  it  quite  easy  for  you." 

"What  does  this  fearless  delegate  have  to  do? 
Stand  on  a  soap  box  on  the  corner  of  Broadway  and 
Forty-second  Street  and  exhort  wives  to  leave  home  and 
husband  and  study  the  nature  of  the  heathen?  " 

He  was  laughing  at  her  seriousness. 

"  No,  it  isn't  religious  —  you  never  seemed  interested 
before,  so  I  never  explained  it.  This  one  club  is  organ- 
ized to  keep  abreast  with  the  times,  study  current  topics. 
You  men  don't  realize  how  tied  we  American  women  are 
who  do  housework  and  bear  and  rear  the  family,  at  the 
same  time  being  expected  to  be  comrades  to  their  hus- 
bands and  intelligent  hostesses  for  their  husbands'  friends ! 
Take  myself  for  example  —  I'm  as  hungry  as  a  beggar  to 
learn  about  the  world  outside  my  four  walls." 

"  Urn  —  do  you  go  in  for  suffrage  and  that  sort  of 
thing?  "  He  was  a  trifle  disapproving. 

"  I  have  never  joined  the  suffrage  club,  but  I  shall 
—  when  I  have  some  more  money.  Clubs  are  not  joined 
so  easily  as  you  think.  You  have  the  old-time  notion  of 
missionary  sewing  circles,  where  everyone  came  to  gossip 
and  eat  doughnuts  md  drink  coffee,  and  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it.  Some  of  the  richest  women  in  the  city  are  club 
women,  they  fight  for  office  as  you  have  fought.  Clothes, 
position,  money,  brains  —  are  all  valuable  assets,  but  I 
think  brains  win  out  ultimately.  We  bring  lecturers  and 
singers  from  New  York  to  brush  us  up,  and  we  study  as 
advanced  things  as  we  can  find."  Her  face  was  flushed 
with  eagerness. 

117 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it's  a  good  thing,"  John  debated 
masterfully.  "  It  takes  up  time  and  you  can't  seem  con- 
tent with  anything  else.  I  don't  mean  you,  Densie,  but 
I've  heard  husbands  talk  about  it.  If  you  had  a  great 
deal  of  money  would  you  bother  with  it?  " 

"  If  I  had  a  great  deal  of  money,"  said  this  small  rebel, 
"  I  would  never  wash  another  dish  or  darn  a  pair  of 
stockings,  cook  another  dinner  or  mop  another  floor.  I 
would  be  as  idle  as  the  rose-leaf  princess  that  I  used 
to  tell  the  children  about  for  a  bedtime  story.  I  hate 
it!  " 

She  stood  up  before  her  husband  and  crossed  her 
arms  defiantly. 

;' Why  —  Densie!"  His  world  tottered  about  his 
ears. 

"Why  —  John,"  she  retorted,  "you  don't  suppose  I 
want  to  stay  a  little  nobody,  do  you?  I've  tried  to  put 
all  of  you  first  and  I  shall  keep  on  trying,  only  deep  in- 
side something  says  to  me  as  it  is  saying  to  thousands 
of  American  women,  '  Be  yourself  first  of  all ! '  And  I 
have  to  keep  that  very  carefully  stifled." 

"What  has  made  you  feel  this  way?  Women  never 
used  to."  He  leaned  forward  anxiously,  and  as  she 
looked  at  him  her  little  face  melted  into  a  motherly 
smile. 

"  I  don't  know,  John,  dear.  Don't  worry  —  I  shan't 
elope  and  be  found  disguised  in  men's  clothes." 

"  I  thought  your  clubs  were  only  a  pastime.  You 
really  take  them  seriously,  Densie.  Tell  me  —  why  do 
women  take  them  so  seriously?  " 

"  Because  you  and  I  were  born  at  the  end  of  a  cer- 
tain era  —  American  Victorian  —  call  it  what  you  like 
—  but  it  was  a  distinct  era  with  certain  beliefs  and 
limitations  and  admirable  qualities;  and  it  has  ended. 

118 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Therefore,  you  and  I,  as  many,  many  people  of  to-day, 
are  dragged  into  the  new  era.  I  have  no  name  for  it 
as  yet,  but  it  ought  to  be  a  stimulating,  splendid  name, 
and  it  must  be  a  more  permanent  era  than  the  one  just 
past.  We  of  the  old  regime  must  either  be  labeled  hope- 
less by  the  younger  generation  and  be  passed  by,  left 
to  live  with  memories;  or  else  we  must  forge  ahead 
despite  the  handicaps  of  our  early  environment  and  be 
one  with  this  new  generation  and  its  platform.  You 
have  done  so,  in  a  sense,  because  you  are  a  man  and 
have  a  man's  rights  —  the  rights  that  this  past  era  un- 
fairly gave  to  man  and  not  to  woman.  You  have  stayed 
in  the  world  and  caught  up  with  the  march,  you  have  not 
had  the  petty,  humiliating,  endless  tasks  that  fall  to  no 
one  else  but  a  woman  —  a  woman  with  a  family.  Oh, 
I  don't  mind  the  doing  them,  for  I  was  taught  it  was  a 
sacred  mission  —  but  they  leave  their  mark  when  you  try 
to  keep  step  with  the  present-day  trend  of  affairs.  John, 
it  is  so  much  harder  to  be  born  at  the  end  of  one  era  than 
at  the  beginning  of  another  —  as  our  children  were. 
Sometime  this  era  will  change  too  —  in  a  hundred  years 
or  so  —  and  with  it  will  Come  another  epoch.  This 
strange  frankness  about  all  matters;  this  analytical,  scien- 
tific, cynical  viewpoint  toward  the  old  matters  of  faith 
and  religion;  this  blunt,  impolite  method  of  brooking  no 
interference  with  one's  wishes  and  breaking  away  from 
home  ties  as  our  daughter  has  done;  this  curious,  ir- 
reverent method  of  hasty  living  from  day  to  day  in 
the  easiest,  the  most  showy,  the  most  extravagant  fash< 
ion  —  it,  too,  will  pass. 

44  And  yet  we  must  be  fair  —  we  of  the  older  regime 
see  only  the  faults  of  the  new,  even  as  they  do  ours; 
and  there  were  strong  virtues  and  benefits  in  each!  I 
wonder  if  these  modernists  have  not  flattered  them- 

119 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

selves  that  they  are  progressive  when  they  are  really 
destructive.  Has  that  ever  occurred  to  you?  John, 
sometime  something  will  teach  America  to  pray  again 
with  a  child's  faith  and  to  conserve  her  resources  and 
her  energies,  and  if  we  of  the  older  period  are  left  that 
long  on  earth  we  may  help  her  in  her  task.  For  with  all 
the  excess  of  sentimentality  and  slowness  of  action  and 
narrowness  of  viewpoint  of  our  era,  we  did  learn  to  pray 
and  to  work  and  to  save !  " 

She  paused,  embarrassed  at  her  outburst.  John  was 
looking  at  her  almost  awesomely.  But  it  is  true  that  no 
man  ever  really  loves  a  clever  woman,  he  admires  her 
and  likes  to  take  her  in  to  dinner  and  declare  she  is  the 
ideal  girl  for  his  chum  to  marry  —  but  for  himself  some 
stupidly  sweet  little  thing  who  can  make  flaky  pie  crust 
and  wear  ruffled  white-muslin  dresses  is  more  to  his 
heart's  delight.  Such  a  woman  had  Densie  been,  and 
now  in  her  quiet,  kindly  manner  she  had  told  him  a 
great  truth.  One  always  knows  when  a  truth  has  been 
voiced  even  though  he  struggle  to  deny  it.  Densie  had 
been  born  at  the  end  of  an  era  and  thrust  into  a  strange 
and  confusing  period  of  which  she  disapproved  yet  tried 
to  imitate  and  follow.  It  echoed  again  to  his  ears  that 
something  might  come  to  sweep  aside  America's  gigantic 
cobwebs  of  extravagance  and  useless  spending,  fill  her 
churches  and  crush  her  youthful  conceit.  It  seemed 
prophetic.  The  thought  annoyed  him.  It  reminded 
him  he  was  getting  along.  Densie  was  forty-one.  He 
was  forty-three.  Br-r-r ! 

'  You've  been  reading  too  much  stuff,"  he  said 
brusquely.  u  I  think  you  better  go  buy  a  pretty  dress  and 
we'll  do  New  York." 

He  tried  to  feel  enthusiastic  about  it,  but  it  was  a 

T20 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

failure.  He  wondered  if  she  would  go  to  endless  club 
meetings  and  drag  him  to  lukewarm  banquets  and  he 
would  have  to  be  surrounded  by  strong-minded  women 
who  were  marching  on  to  freedom  —  wherever  that  might 
be! 

"  I  will  buy  a  new  dress;  my  things  are  too  ancient 
to  be  seen.  Sally  has  always  had  the  right  of  way 
when  it  comes  to  clothes." 

And  he  was  thankful  that  she  had  sidetracked  the  more 
serious  question.  When  Sally  learned  of  the  trip  she 
was  aggrieved  that  she  was  not  to  go.  It  was  so  un- 
heard of  for  mummy  to  have  a  holiday;  but  after  a  little 
she  had  coaxed  her  parents  to  let  her  have  a  party  and 
to  buy  a  new  muff.'  She  was  quite  resigned  by  the  time 
they  were  ready  to  go;  after  all,  mummy  would  want 
her  to  be  in  bed  by  nine  and  daddy  would  be  cross  be- 
cause mummy  fussed,  and  she  would  not  have  had  a 
good  time.  She  would  wait  and  save  the  money  to  go 
alone  to  visit  Harriet.  Who  knew  —  if  unhampered  by 
an  anxious  mummy  and  a  handsome  daddy  she  might  meet 
the  great  love  of  her  life ! 

Densie  bought  smoky  pearl-gray  satin  to  make  the 
dress  herself,  which  she  did  and  robbed  it  of  any  style, 
though  the  material  was  excellent.  It  looked  a  trifle 
queer  she  admitted  as  she  tried  it  on.  Still  it  was  a  new 
dress  and  she  was  an  old  married  woman  at  whom  no 
one  would  be  apt  to  look.  She  got  new  boots  and  a 
black  hat  which  Sally  selected.  Her  old  things  must 
do  for  traveling.  She  found  time  to  make  Harriet  some 
goodies  and  to  cook  and  bake  for  Sally  and  Kenneth  so 
as  to  last  them  well  into  the  week. 

They  went  down  to  the  metropolis  by  night,  arriving 
in  the  morning.  John  insisted  on  driving  to  the  best 
hotel  of  which  he  knew  though  Densie  timidly  protested 

X2I 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

it  seemed  a  rather  huge  price  to  pay  for  a  room  and  bath, 
and  then  all  their  meals  extra.  But  John  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  her  murmurings. 

She  looked  awesomely  at  the  uniformed  maids  and 
liveried,  patronizing  bell  boys,  who  viewed  her  supercili- 
ously. She  felt  strangely  out  of  place  in  the  modern 
bedroom,  the  carionlike  streets  yawning  below,  and  the 
rush  and  roar  of  the  city  in  her  ears. 

After  breakfast  they  started  out  to  find  Harriet  —  it 
was  to  be  a  complete  surprise.  It  was  Saturday  morn- 
ing, and  according  to  Harriet's  schedule  she  had  no 
classes.  They  took  a  cab  because  John  did  not  want  to 
bother  to  find  the  way,  and  it  was  such  fun  to  lean  back 
and  watch  the  city  swirl  about  them. 


122 


XI     . 

Harriet  Plummer's  boarding  house  was  an  old-time 
brown-stone-front  affair.  Yes,  she  was  in,  the  woman 
said  who  opened  the  door. 

Tiptoeing  up  the  stairs  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Plummer  knocked 
at  her  door.  A  small  fair-haired  girl  with  childish  blue 
eyes  and  a  pinched  selfish  mouth  came  in  answer.  She 
wore  an  elaborate  smock,  knickers  of  'corduroy  and  was 
smoking  a  cigarette. 

"  I  think  we  have  made  a  mistake,"  John  said  briefly; 
"  I  was  looking  for  Harriet  Plummer." 

"  Oh,  yes !  Harry  dear,  someone  for  you,"  the  small 
girl  answered  easily. 

Then  Harriet  emerged  in  a  severe  brown-linen  smock 
and  knickers.  She  was  not  smoking,  but  a  cigarette  butt 
indicated  that  she  had  been.  Her  hair  was  cut  short 
like  a  boy's  and  she  was  thinner  and  paler  than  ever  be- 
fore. 

"  Well,"  she  began  in  her  clipped  fashion,  "  why  didn't 
you  let  me  know?  Glad  to  see  you.  Hully,  daddy! 
Here  are  my  people,  Leila."  She  waved  an  introduc- 
tion with  one  of  her  slim  hands. 

John  and  Densie  came  in  rather  timidly  and  sat  down. 
The  room  was  in  keeping  with  the  two  rising  young 
feminists  —  severe  and  scant  furnishings,  some  foreign 
prints  on  the  wall,  smoking  stands,  a  great  writing  desk 
heaped  with  books  and  papers,  golf  sticks,  a  tennis  racket 
and  books  piled  in  untidy  stacks  on  the  floor.  The  bed- 
room was  a  nondescript  affair  tossed  together  any  old 
way  —  it  was  evident  that  the  feminists  merely  slept 

123 


A  -WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

here  and  forgot  its  very  existence  the  moment  their  eyes 
opened.  A  brass  samovar,  teacups  and  saucers  showed 
the  only  signs  of  domesticity. 

"How  long  are  you  going  to  stay?"  Harriet  asked 
after  the  first  shock  had  subsided.  "  How's  Sally  and 
the  boy?  I've  a  lecture  at  eleven.  Leila  has  to  clear 
now,  poor  old  thing!  She's  behind  in  two  of  her  sub- 
jects; had  to  go  home  because  of  her  mother's  illness." 

"  Harriet  helps  me,"  Leila  confessed.  "  Don't  you 
think  we've  a  nice  place,  Mrs.  Plummer?  " 

"  Very,"  Densie  fibbed.  She  was  still  staring  at  the 
knickerbockers  and  cigarettes  and  shorn  hair!  "Har- 
riet, you  didn't  say  you  had  cut  your  hair." 

"  Oh,  didn't  I?  It  was  such  a  bother  to  comb.  Leila 
here  keeps  hers  because  hers  is  pretty.  I'm  afraid  I 
never  want  to  be  bothered  with  combs  and  hairpins  again. 
I'll  leave  my  share  to  Sally." 

"  It  doesn't  look  right,"  her  father  commented  grimly. 

Then  he  felt  the  situation  was  entirely  too  much  for 
him.  He  would  decamp  and  leave  Densie  to  ferret  out 
the  new  scheme  of  things  and  deal  with  it  as  she  wished. 
So,  after  a  few  more  commonplaces  and  Harriet's  modest 
announcement  that  she  was  coaching  three  people  a  day 
in  math  and  Latin  and  doing  quite  well  in  school  and  some 
simpering  remarks  from  Leila,  John  departed,  telling 
Harriet  to  get  her  mother  back  to  the  hotel  safely  and 
to  come  and  take  dinner  with  them  that  night. 

'  Your  mother  is  here  as  delegate  to  a  club  federa- 
tion," he  ended  formally. 

"  Oh,  those  women's  clubs  youVe  been  joining.  Is 
that  it,  mummy?  "  Harriet's  eyebrows  arched  in  amuse- 
ment. "  I  am  not  interested  in  club  movements.  Here, 
daddy,  here  is  the  last  thing  I  wrote  that  they  thought 
good  enough  to  make  into  a  pamphlet  —  Study  of 

124 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Women's  Reformatories  in  New  York  and  Connecticut. 
And  next  summer  I'm  appointed  to  a  bully  good  thing; 
dress  as  a  tough  girl  and  go  to  the  small  New  York 
towns  that  have  canning  factories,  blow  into  the  town 
presumably  walking  the  ties  and  get  a  job  at  the  factory, 
act  as  rough  as  I  like  and  lay  in  wait  to  see  if  they  are 
employing  child  labor.  It  may  mean  a  great  deal  to  me; 
we  believe  that  most  canneries  keep  two  sets  of  books, 
one  for  the  inspectors  and  one  for  their  own  use;  and 
most  factories  are  so  situated  to  the  railroad  that  an  ap- 
proaching stranger  gives  the  warning  himself,  and  into 
the  vault  goes  the  one  set  of  books!  I  am  positive  of 
this  —  you  remember  when  we  first  talked  it  over, 
Leila?" 

Leila  remembered.  That  was  the  best  thing  Leila 
ever  did  —  to  remember  what  Harriet  said,  and  use  it  as 
her  own  original  thought. 

"  You  cannot  go  to  strange  towns  dressed  as  a  rough 
woman,"  began  her  father  testily.  "  Great  heavens ! 
Is  charity  conducted  on  this  scale?" 

'  You  do  not  understand,  daddy  —  but  after  you  see 
the  work  I'll  do,  tracing  child  labor  to  its  source  and 
stopping  it,  you're  bound  to  approve.  Some  of  the  can- 
neries in  the  grape  belt  have  had  children  of  eight  and 
nine  helping  pick,  and  some  foreigners  let  their  four  and 
five  year  old  babies  shell  peas  or  string  beans  and  hold 
down  a  regular  job!  " 

"  Well,  the  poor  souls  know  where  their  children  are 
—  better  than  letting  them  be  run  over  by  an  automo- 
bile," murmured  Densie.  "  I  remember  when  such 
things  existed  and  no  one  seemed  to  think  them  terrible." 

"Mummy!"  Harriet's  dark  eyes  glowered  with 
anger.  "  Please  don't  say  that  in  front  of  my  friends  — 
you  don't  realize  how  you  hnve  committed  yourself." 

125 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

She  exchanged  compassionate  glances  with  Leila. 
Leila's  family  were  impossible  too  ! 

After  John  had  left  and  Leila  exchanged  her  knickers 
for  a  brief  skirt  and  a  tartan-plaid  coat  and  mannish  hat, 
saying  a  glib  and  affected  good-by  to  "  dear  Mrs.  Plum- 
mer,"  Densie  took  off  her  black  cape  and  began  to  un- 
pack the  basket  of  goodies  she  had  made. 

"  Really,  mother,"  Harriet  explained  ever  so  kindly, 
"we  diet.  No  meat  — no  tea  or  coffee  —  no  sweets; 
cereals,  vegetables,  eggs  three  times  a  week,  cheese  and 
buttermilk.  I  cannot  study  when  I  stuff  myself  as  I  did 
at  home."  She  looked  with  scorn  at  the  sausage  loaf, 
the  cake,  the  jar  of  mayonnaise.  "  Thanks  just  the 
same!  " 

"You  mean  —  you  don't  —  want  any  of  it?"  Densie 
asked  slowly. 

"  We  couldn't  use  it.  Once  in  a  while  we  have  a  tea 
here  for  some  of  the  students  and  we  have  jam  and  wa- 
fers, but  we'd  all  rather  smoke." 

"  So  you  do  smoke,  Harriet!  " 

Harriet  flushed.  She  did  not  enjoy  meeting  her  moth- 
er's steady  disapproving  gaze. 

'  You  cannot  keep  me  a  baby  all  my  days,  mummy. 
You  do  a  great  many  things  I  don't  do,  and  I  never  com- 
plain. Well,  grant  me  the  same  right." 

'Why  do  you  wear  these  things?"  Densie  pointed 
to  the  knickers. 

"  Convenience.  Skirts  are  clumsy.  Here,  wrap  these 
up  and  eat  them  yourself.  They'll  probably  taste  better 
to  you  than  hotel  fare."  She  began  replacing  the  articles 
in  their  basket. 

Without  speaking  Densie  did  so. 

Presently  Harriet  ventured  more  cordially:  "  I  hope 
you  have  some  spare  time  when  I  have  some  spare  time, 

126 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

mummy.  We  are  both  busy,  aren't  we?  What  would 
you  like  to  see?  " 

"  I  must  attend  the  club  meetings  and  I  shall  go  home 
as  soon  as  they  have  finished.  Your  father  has  no  busi- 
ness here.  He  came  to  please  me,"  she  admitted  lamely. 

"  How  nice !  You  must  go  to  the  Metropolitan  with 
me."  Harriet  assumed  a  martyred  air.  "  And  we'll 
do  a  theater,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  dear;  I  only  came  to  see  my  daughter."  Densie 
laid  the  rejected  basket  beside  her  cape.  "  I  felt  you 
were  growing  to  be  a  stranger  to  us,  and  I  see  that  I  was 
right.  Tell  me,  who  is  this  Leila?  " 

"  Her  name  is  Leila  Cochrane,  and  she  comes  from 
Bangor,  Maine.  She  is  a  darling  girl,"  Harriet  spoke 
with  more  enthusiasm  than  Densie  could  remember  in 
years.  "  She  is  studying  to  be  a  librarian.  We  met  each 
other  last  year  and  we've  been  rooming  together  since 
this  fall;  she  means  everything  to  me,  mummy." 

'  Why  did  you  never  write  about  her?  " 

Harriet  frowned.  "  I  didn't  think  it  was  necessary. 
I'm  old  enough  to  room  with  whom  I  choose."  She 
glanced  at  the  mantel  clock. 

''  When  you  have  finished  school  next  year  do  you  in- 
tend coming  home?  "  Densie's  eyes  were  dark  and  anx- 
ious. 

"  No."  Harriet  looked  at  her  directly.  "  I  could 
never  come  home  and  be  satisfactory  to  any  of  you,  and 
least  of  all  to  myself.  I  expected  an  appointment  and  I 
think  I  shall  take  it.  After  a  little  I'll  go  abroad.  I'd 
like  to  be  statistician  for  the  Whitechapel  district  in  Lon- 
don." 

'*  Then  we've  lost  our  oldest  girl  ?  "  A  tear  showed  on 
Densie's  flushed  cheek. 

"  Please,  mummy,  don't  go  into  agonies.  You  are 

127 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

too  emotional  to  understand,  I  do  believe."  Harriet's 
irritation  would  not  stay  in  check.  '  You  don't  want  me 
to  be  a  burden,  a  wastling?  This  is  my  work.  I  must  do 
it  my  way.  I  haven't  been  any  expense  to  you  this  last 
year  —  have  I?  Sally  has  —  I  know  that  without  the 
asking.  I  never  intend  to  be  an  expense;  in  fact  as  soon 
as  I  get  a  position  I  shall  send  you  an  allowance.  I 
want  to  repay  all  you  have  done  for  me.  Yes,  I  do ;  then 
you  cannot  say  I  have  shirked  in  my  part.  It  would  be 
an  economic  crime  not  to  do  so  —  considering  your  and 
daddy's  circumstances.  But  you  must  not  delude  your- 
self with  thinking  I'm  coming  home  —  because  I  shall  live 
in  my  own  way." 

"  I  only  want  you  to  love  me,  Harriet.  I  don't  really 
care  about  the  rest.  Only  I  cannot  understand  why 
young  women  smoke  and  cut  their  hair  short  and  wear 
knickers  when  they  are  learning  to  help  the  poor  and 
stop  crime.  And  why  they  don't  want  to  come  home.  It 
is  a  home,  after  all,  Harriet;  and  these  rooms  are  not. 
There  is  nothing  here  that  suggests  comfort  or  care  or 
anyone's  taking  any  particular  pains." 

"  I  cannot  endure  the  smugness  of  a  home,"  flashed 
back  her  child.  "  Homes  are  too  often  stagnant  places, 
retarding  progress.  I  shall  never  have  a  home.  I  am 
not  a  home  woman  —  some  are,  I  presume  —  but  homes 
in  the  old  sense  are  bound  to  pass  away,  just  as  you  left 
the  Little  House  and  took  a  flat.  We  cannot  always  go 
on  having  ponderous  drawing-rooms  and  steel  engravings 
of  Nelson  and  silver  water  pitchers  in  the  dining  room 
—  that  sort  of  thing.  Where  would  we  end  if  we  were 
satisfied  with  that  goal?  " 

'  Where  do  you  wish  us  all  to  end  —  and  where  do 
you  intend  ending?  " 

'  With  a  great  world-wide  reform,  cooperative  house- 

128 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

keeping,  learn  to  be  impersonal.  I  have  tabulated  some 
experiments  made  by  a  professor  —  I'll  show  them  to  you. 
This  is  the  day  and  age  of  the  specialist,  mummy,  that 
is  the  great  barrier  between  you  and  me.  The  old-time 
school-teacher  could  make  her  clothes  and  help  with  the 
housework  and  teach  her  musty  methods,  as  well  as  go 
buggy  riding  with  her  young  man  and  sing  alto  in  the 
choir!  Well,  that  may  have  been  well  enough,  but  to- 
day the  teacher  must  consecrate  herself  to  her  career. 
That  career  must  come  before  all  else.  If  a  man  is  to 
be  a  doctor  he  must  learn  to  be  a  specialist.  If  a  woman 
is  to  be  a  lawyer  she  must  be  nothing  but  a  lawyer  — 
that  is  the  reform  which  is  approaching.  Do  the  one 
thing  you  are  meant  to  do  and  do  it  with  all  your  heart. 
Let  the  other  people  do  the  mechanics  of  mere  living  if 
they  wish." 

Harriet  paused,  her  cheeks  slightly  crimson  from  ex- 
citement. 

"  I  see.     And  as  to  religion,  Harriet?  " 

"  I  am  not  interested  in  theology,"  her  child  answered 
calmly.  "  I  prefer  Egyptology  as  a  recreation.  .  .  . 
Of  course,  systems  of  philosophy  are  interesting.  I  find 
the  Chaldeans  entertained  the  same  belief  as  to  morals 
and  a  code  of  honor  that  I  do  myself.  Now  Leila  ad- 
mires the  vikings.  But  beyond  a  fragmentary  analysis 
I  have  never  had  the  time  to  bother  and  I  don't  see  much 
chance  that  I  shall." 

"  Have  you  never  met  a  man  you  fancied?"  Densie 
asked  in  despair. 

"  I  shall  never  love  romantically,"  was  the  forcible 
answer.  "What  time  have  I  for  love?" 

"You  don't  sew?" 

"  A  woman  makes  this  stuff  for  all  of  us.  It  saves  the 
time  and  eyesight  that  we  need  for  our  work." 

129 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  rose.  The  older  era  had  suffered  a  temporary 
defeat ! 

"I  suppose  you  must  go  to  your  lecture  —  just  start 
me  toward  my  hotel.  I  won't  afford  another  cab.  I 
must  be  at  the  opening  meeting  this  afternoon.  You'll 
come  to  dinner  with  us,  Harriet?  " 

"  Thanks.     May  I  bring  Leila?  " 

Densie  hesitated.     "  We  wanted  you  to  ourselves." 

"  Leila  shares  everything  with  me,"  Harriet  protested. 

"  Then  bring  Leila,"  her  mother  said,  turning  away. 

Harriet  took  her  over  half  the  way  and  left  her,  to 
scurry  back  to  her  lecture,  telling  herself  that  perhaps  it 
was  just  as  well  they  had  come  —  there  would  have  had  to 
be  a  definite  understanding  sooner  or  later.  It  was  an- 
noying—  but  then,  it  never  could  have  been  anything 
but  annoying,  and  once  over  it  was  a  good  task  accom- 
plished. Dear  little  mummy,  she  would  send  her  as  gen- 
erous an  allowance  as  she  could  afford.  Harriet  was 
naturally  just  and  generous  —  and  she  was  fearless. 
What  she  believed  she  lived,  and  her  Uncle  Herbert  used 
to  say  that  her  word  was  as  good  as  a  Chinaman's.  She 
hated  to  hurt  her  mother  —  it  was  like  tearing  old  lace, 
she  admitted  to  herself.  But  it  was  inevitable.  As  for 
her  father,  Harriet's  sense  of  humor  came  to  the  rescue 
—  her  father  looked  quite  gay  and  well  cared  for  —  she 
had  no  fears  for  him.  He  too  had  broken  away  from 
the  old  ties  and  was  probably  living  his  own  life  in  his 
own  way. 

In  a  bewildered  state  of  mind  Densie  answered  the  con- 
vention roll  call,  but  she  was  distinctly  sorry  she  had  come 
to  New  York.  Her  dress  proved  to  be  a  fright,  as  she 
heard  someone  murmur  when  she  passed;  the  others  were 
beautifully  gowned  and  jeweled  creatures  or  else  very 
trig  tailored  affairs  that  made  one  address  them  with 

130 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

respect.  Everyone  seemed  to  know  everyone  else,  and 
Densie  alone  was  strange.  She  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
She  knew  her  club  expected  some  sort  of  glowing  report; 
they  would  have  liked  some  evidence  that  their  delegate 
had  been  a  success  and  deserving  of  notice  —  but  beyond 
the  roll  call  and  consenting  to  have  a  window  just  back 
of  her  opened  for  more  air  Densie  Plummer  played  no 
part  in  the  convention. 

She  did  not  catch  the  full  meaning  of  the  addresses, 
because  she  was  thinking  of  Harriet,  with  her  shorn  head, 
her  cigarettes,  her  heartless  plan  of  life,  her  refusal  to  stay 
at  home  or  return  to  it,  her  argument  that  so  much  money 
a  month  would  be  a  worthy  substitute  and  heart  balm. 
Densie's  little  mouth  set  in  a  firm  line  as  she  experienced 
a  quiet  sort  of  desperation.  She  was  losing  out.  Four 
years  ago  she  tried  to  make  a  great  advance  and  overtake 
this  younger  generation  swinging  by  her  so  carelessly. 
But  she  had  not  overtaken  them;  they  were  passing  her 
more  rapidly  than  ever  before ! 

She  knew  they  rose  for  a  benediction  and  a  buzz  of 
small  talk  filled  the  parlors.  Someone  handed  her  a 
program  on  which  were  scheduled  the  meetings  and  com- 
mittee meetings,  and  that  was  all. 

She  returned  to  her  hotel,  to  find  John  waiting  with 
the  announcement  that  after  they  had  Harriet  for  din- 
ner they  would  go  to  the  theater  with  the  Fergusons, 
friends  of  his.  He  had  met  Ferguson  accidentally  and 
they  had  made  the  date.  After  the  theater  they  would 
go  to  supper  at  a  famous  cafe.  Densie  must  see  the 
place;  it  was  worth  the  price  of  their  codfish  alias  crab 
meat. 

'What   about   Harriet?"   John   concluded   irritably. 
"  I  can't  make  the  girl  out  —  what  does  she  say?  " 

Briefly  Densie  told  him. 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

He  shook  his  head.  "  You  should  have  brought  her 
up  differently,  Densie;  that  is  not  the  way  for  her  to 
be." 

Densie  gave  a  choked  laugh.  "I  —  brought  her  up 
differently?  That  is  funny!  Suppose  you  talk  with 
her!" 

"  It  is  not  my  place.  I  want  to  stay  friends  with  her 
or  she'll  go  putting  me  in  her  statistics."  John  really 
took  a  humorous  view  of  the  matter.  '  The  girl  is  on 
the  way  to  success  in  her  line,  and  I  suppose  it's  this  mod- 
ern era,  little  woman;  the  one  you  were  telling  me  about 
—  remember?  " 

"I  suppose  —  but  shall  we  try  to  make  her  change 
her  mind?  " 

"Heavens,  no!  In  captivity  Harriet  would  be  worse 
than  a  Bengal  tiger.  She's  sound  at  heart  —  merely 
odd.  It's  a  poor  family  that  can't  afford  one  genius  — 
and  a  rubber  plant,  y'know." 

Humming  a  popular  air  John  went  below  to  wait  for 
his  modern  daughter. 

Densie  remonstrated  once  that  the  girls  were  not  eat- 
ing enough  nutritious  food,  only  to  be  properly  repri- 
manded by  a  shower  of  statistics  and  tables  of  food 
values;  after  which  she  let  John  and  Leila  do  the  talking 
while  Harriet  cynically  viewed  the  gay  dining  room  and 
Densie  thought  with  rebellion  of  her  good  food  upstairs, 
which  was  wasted  while  they  paid  absurd  prices  for  in- 
ferior messed  up  concoctions. 

Harriet  and  Leila  had  donned  severe  silk  frocks  out  of 
respect  to  John  and  Densie,  and  Harriet's  felt  hat  hid 
the  short  hair.  Leila  and  John  carried  on  a  banter- 
ing conversation  of  nonsense  at  which  Harriet  seemed 
amused.  It  struck  Densie  it  was  silly  and  useless,  and  her 

132 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

head  ached  as  she  tried  to  remember  all  that  had  hap- 
pened at  the  federation  meeting. 

But  if  the  dinner  was  bad  the  evening  was  far  worse. 
From  the  first  sight  of  Mrs.  Ferguson,  in  a  rich  green 
satin  with  sealskin  bands  and  a  cloudy  hat  of  black  tulle 
and  with  an  evening  coat  thrown  over  her  arm,  Densie 
felt  a  greater  despair  than  before.  She  saw  John's  eyes 
smile  admiringly  at  her  and  then  give  a  quick  side  glance 
at  his  own  wife. 

Mrs.  Ferguson  was  kind  to  Densie,  but  she  sat  beside 
John  and  kept  asking  him  little  questions  the  answers  to 
which  conspired  to  show  how  very  stupidly  innocent  she 
was  and  how  extremely  wise  he  must  be !  She  thought 
him  handsome  and  attractive,  and  said  afterward  it  was 
a  shame  he  was  tied  to  a  dowdy  mouse. 

The  musical  comedy  shocked  Densie;  to  her  mind  it 
was  immodest.  She  recalled  going  to  good  Shaksperean 
plays  as  a  girl,  but  this  hodgepodge  of  legs  and  flirtatious 
eyes,  claptrap  comedy  and  suggestive  humor,  loud  un- 
trained voices  shouting  some  lusty  u  I  am  surprised  at 
you  "  sort  of  song  —  wearied  and  confused  her;  and  she 
longed  for  the  Little  House,  where  at  least  she  could  be 
at  peace. 

After  the  theater  came  the  cabaret  with  its  singers  and 
confetti  and  paper  festoons  to  entangle  one's  old-style 
bonnet.  The  others  had  champagne  and  some  chafing- 
dish  dainty  —  not  fit  to  eat  —  but  Densie  sat  nibbling  her 
plate  of  rolls  and  trying  to  keep  up  a  conversation  with 
Mrs.  Ferguson,  who  looked  at  her  in  open  amusement. 

"  I'm  more  tired  than  if  I  had  washed,"  she  told  John 
when  they  went  to  their  room.  "  How  can  people  do  this 
sort  of  thing  all  along?  " 

'  This  is  play.     You  ought  not  be  tired."     The  cham- 

133 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

pagne  had  made  him  good-natured.  "  By  the  way,  isn't 
Ferguson's  wife  a  winner?  Jove,  she  looks  well  in  that 
dress.  A  lot  of  women  wouldn't  have  carried  it  off." 

He  did  not  add  anything  else,  but  Densie  knew  his 
thoughts. 

"  How  long  have  they  been  married?  " 

"  About  ten  years,  I  guess  " 

"Any  children?" 

"  No." 

"  So  I  thought."  Densie  brushed  her  hair  methodic- 
ally and  kept  her  own  counsel. 

"  People  marry  later  than  they  used  to,"  John  rumi- 
nated; "  and  I  don't  know  but  what  these  early  marriages 
are  a  mistake.  Children  shoved  into  a  life  contract  — 
they  don't  know  their  own  minds.  By  George,  they 
don't!" 

Densie  did  not  answer.  Tears  came  to  hide  the  dark 
blue  eyes.  She  wondered  if  she  could  pretend  she  was 
suddenly  ill  and  go  home.  She  could  not  stand  any  more 
of  this. 

But  she  did  —  after  six  days  of  routine  convention 
meetings  at  which  she  was  duly  snubbed  and  ignored,  and 
glimpses  of  Harriet  in  between  times,  Densie  realized  a 
new  vital  thing.  It  was  not  pleasant  to  realize  —  it 
never  is  —  but  with  such  a  woman  as  Densie  and  such  a 
man  as  John  and  such  a  —  everything  as  surrounded 
them,  it  was  imperative  she  should  realize  and  accom- 
plish it.  She  must  begin  to  earn  her  own  money.  That 
alone  would  win  her  respect  and  self-confidence ! 

John  had  deserted  her  the  morning  after  the  theater 
party.  He  wanted  to  look  up  some  business  men  who 
would  be  likely  to  be  home  on  a  Sunday.  He  had  lunch- 
eon at  the  Fergusons'  on  Monday,  telling  Densie  that  they 
had  a  gem  of  an  apartment  and  Mrs.  Ferguson  was  the 

134 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

best  hostess  in  the  world,  she  knew  how  to  make  folks 
feel  at  home  and  yet  entertain  them.  Lucky  Ferguson! 
And  he  went  with  Harriet  into  the  slums  and  returned  to 
tell  Densie  that  Harriet  had  a  brain  in  ten  thousand  and 
though  he  would  rather  she  would  not  stay  away  from 
home  they  might  as  well  try  to  persuade  the  Rock  of 
Gibraltar  to  toddle  across  to  New  York  Harbor. 

So  Densie  boarded  the  train  with  this  new  duty  im- 
pressing itself  upon  her.  If  she  was  to  catch  up  with 
the  younger  generation  she  must  earn  her  own  money  and 
her  own  economic  and  social  independence ! 


135 


XII 

Sally  and  Kenneth  met  them  at  the  train,  Kenneth 
jumping  up  and  down  with  joy  at  the  sight  of  his  mother 
Densie  looked  at  Sally  with  relief  —  with  all  her  fussy 
clothes  and  dreams.  Sally  was  Sally,  who  really  wanted 
to  kiss  her  mother  a  dozen  times  and  put  her  arms  round 
her  father  unashamedly.  Harriet  loathed  embracing; 
it  was  a  relic  of  barbarism,  she  said  she  had  come  to  be- 
lieve. 

"  And  how  have  you  kept  house,  Sally?  "  her  father 
asked  as  they  made  for  a  cab. 

"Very  well;  haven't  I,  Ken?  We  did  not  brush  the 
dust  behind  the  doors  or  eat  a  can  of  lobster  every  day 
for  lunch."  Both  of  which  things  Sally  had  threatened 
to  do  when  she  was  displeased  at  their  going.  "  Doesn't 
Kenneth  look  well  fed,  mummy?  Feel  his  arm;  I  haven't 
starved  him." 

"  Sally  has  a  new  beau,"  Kenneth  announced.  "  A 
real  old  man  too !  " 

Sally  gave  him  a  little  shake.  "  How  dare  you  tell  a 
fib?  Don't  believe  him,  mummy.  I've  met  someone 
very  wonderful,  that's  all." 

"  And  he  gave  me  a  dollar."  Kenneth  felt  it  his  duty 
to  make  a  complete  report.  "  And  Henderson's  goldfish 
have  all  died,  and  Mr.  Henderson  was  drunk  Thursday 
night." 

"  Proceed,"  urged  his  father.  "  Let  us  know  the  rest 
about  this  new  cavalier." 

"  Daddy  —  as  if  he  was " 

136 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Well,  when  Aunt  Maude  Hatton  and  Aunt  Lucy 
Parks  were  coming  for  supper  and  Mr.  Humberstone 
wanted  to  come  Sally  sent  the  aunts  word  not  to  come !  " 

Sally  gave  him  a  little  pinch.  '  You  mean  little 
thing!  "  she  said  sharply.  "  Don't  look  horrified, 
mummy.  It  was  just  that  I  knew  they  would  never  be 
congenial  —  nothing  else." 

"  Why  didn't  you  send  Mr.  Humberstone  word  not  to 
come?  "  asked  Densie. 

"  Oh,  because  she  likes  him.     M-m-m." 

Kenneth  kissed  the  air  loudly  several  times. 

"Sally!" 

Sally rs  face  crimsoned.  "  It  isn't  so  at  all.  That 
isn't  very  nice,  Ken,  after  all  I've  done  for  you  this 
week!" 

"  Let's  see  the  young  man,"  suggested  her  father. 
"  Gad,  it's  a  relief  to  find  a  young  woman  that  has  a 
beau.  Your  sister  Harriet  flees  at  the  sight  of  a  male 

—  long  haired  socialists  are  her  speed." 
"What  is  he  like,  Kenneth?"  Densie  asked. 

She  had  been  looking  closely  at  her  daughter  and 
marveling  at  the  change  a  week  could  make.  For  some 
reason  she  took  the  mention  of  this  new  cavalier  seriously 

—  unpleasantly  so. 

Sally's  eyes  were  more  intense,  there  was  an  air  of 
importance  and  sophistication  about  her. 

'  Well,  there  is  a  big  black  dog  that  lives  up  on  the 
avenue,"  began  Kenneth  deliberately;  "he  is  a  very 
wealthy  dog,  I  guess  —  and  he  has  a  jeweled  collar  and  a 
sweater,  but  he  won't  let  anyone  pet  him.  He'll  stand  off 
and  go  '  Woof,  woof!  '  and  show  his  teeth,  and  his  eyes 
are  real  mean  —  but  he  is  scared  to  ever  bite  anyone 
or  lick  any  other  dog,  even  a  cur  —  and  that  is  like  Mr. 
Humberstone.  Oh,  Sally!" 

137 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

He  burst  into  tears  as  Sally's  hand  descended  across  his 
mouth  before  Densie  could  interfere. 

Fortunately,  they  had  reached  home,  and  Kenneth  was 
taken  upstairs  to  be  consoled,  while  Sally  followed  in  ag- 
grieved silence  and  John  paid  off  the  teamster.  Sally 
had  a  breakfast  ready  for  them.  It  touched  Densie  to 
think  she  would  do  this,  after  Harriet's  brusque  method 
of  entertainment.  After  all,  Sally  was  bound  to  meet 
strangers  and  strangers  were  bound  to  love  Sally  —  so 
perhaps  Mr.  Humberstone  was  inevitable. 

Peace  restored,  they  sat  down  to  eat.  It  was  with 
relief  that  Densie  returned  to  her  flat.  The  New  York 
experience  had  exhausted  her  physically  and  mentally. 
Besides,  she  had  lost  caste  in  her  husband's  eyes,  and  the 
federation  of  clubs  was  none  the  wiser  that  she  had  come 
and  gone. 

She  noted  a  handsome  centerpiece  of  roses  and  lilies 
of  the  valley  on  the  table. 

"  How  extravagant,  Sally  dear !  "  she  said  fondly. 
"But  how  lovely!" 

"  Mr.  Humberstone  sent  them  to  me,"  Sally  an- 
nounced proudly. 

'  Those  cost  a  good  deal.  What  business  is  he  in?  " 
mused  her  father. 

"  A  stock  broker,"  Sally  answered  with  equal  pride. 
"  His  name  is  Rex  Humberstone  and  he  lives  at  the  Cen- 
tury Club.  He  is  a  little  older  than  I  —  I  don't  just 
know  how  much  —  but  you'll  like  him." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know  who  he  is  —  Humberstone  —  tall, 
thin,  copper-colored  face  and  wears  gold  pince-nez. 
Well,  well,  he  is  a  good  bit  older  than  you,  young  lady. 
We  must  see  about  this." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  meet  him?  "  added  Densie  anx- 
iously. 

138 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Mrs.  Sullivan  had  a  little  party.  I  went  and  took 
Kenneth." 

"  Yes,  and  she  made  me  go  to  sleep  in  the  back  bed- 
room, and  she  came  home  with  Mr.  Humberstone  and 
left  me  there,  and  I  woke  up  in  the  dark  and  didn't  know 
where  I  was  and  I  hollered,"  supplemented  Kenneth  con- 
scientiously. 

Densie  shook  her  head. 

"  We  met  there,  daddy  " —  Sally  devoted  herself  to 
her  father  — "  and  he  asked  to  call  and  I  said  he  might. 
I'm  not  a  child;  and  don't  believe  this  horrid  little  boy. 
He  sent  me  the  flowers  yesterday." 

"  Oh,  he's  a  real,  true  beau."  Kenneth  slipped  out  of 
his  chair. 

"  Humberstone !  I've  heard  something  about  him." 
John  drew  out  a  cigar  and  clipped  the  end.  "  Can't 
think  just  now.  By  the  way,  Sally,  your  sister  has  short 
hair  and  smokes  —  she  is  all  aflame  to  reform  the  world. 
Poor  mother,  between  Harriet  and  the  traffic  squad  she 
did  not  know  which  way  to  turn." 

"  Her  hair  short  —  how  silly!  "  Sally  glanced  in  the 
mirror  at  herself.  "  What  did  you  say  to  her,  mummy?  " 

"  Not  much.     She  said  everything  to  me." 

"  Is  she  coming  home  next  year?  " 

"No;  Harriet  wants  to  stay  in  New  York;  the  op- 
portunities are  better  for  her  work." 

"  Oh,"  Sally  paused  thoughtfully.  "  Well,  I  can  see 
her  viewpoint!  After  all,  Harriet  has  a  right  to  do  as 
she  wishes." 

That  night  Rex  Humberstone  was  to  call  on  Sally  and 
meet  her  mother.  So  far  so  good,  Densie  decided, 
though  when  she  asked  Sally  about  Dean  Laddbarry  she 
was  disappointed  to  hear  Sally  say  they  had  quarreled 
again  and  that  she  loathed  boys. 

139 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Oh,  mummy  dear,  Mr.  Humberstone  is  so  wonder- 
ful! I  have  never  met  anyone  in  the  world  that  was 
quite  such  a  prince !  "  All  of  Sally's  dream  people  had 
vanished  now  that  reality  had  won  her  heart.  "  I  feel 
it  is  fun  just  to  be  alive  —  so  as  to  see  what  will  happen 
next!" 

She  dressed  herself  in  a  blue  frock  shirred  in  interest- 
ing places,  and  combed  her  hair  high  like  a  dowager's, 
awaiting  Mr.  Humberstone's  pleasure.  John  was  out 
for  the  evening,  and  Kenneth  was  hustled  to  bed;  he  was 
in  deep  disgrace  in  Sally's  eyes. 

She  went  about  rearranging  the  parlor  and  living  room 
and  complaining  that  this  or  that  was  out  of  place  and 
old-fashioned. 

"  He's  so  cultured,  mother,  you've  no  idea,  and  has 
such  exquisite  manners !  Oh,  mummy,  you  are  not  going 
to  stay  in  the  room  with  us  all  evening,  are  you?  " 

"  Don't  you  want  me?"  Densie  asked  simply.  Dean 
always  demanded  where  she  was  and  insisted  on  her  join- 
ing them. 

"  Well,  we  can't  talk  as  well  —  you  know  how  it  is, 
mother,"  Sally  argued. 

"  I'm  quite  tired  —  so  I  won't  want  to  stay  long  any- 
way." 

Densie  made  herself  dismiss  her  fears. 

"  Do  change  your  dress.     Put  on  the  gray-satin  one." 

"  Nonsense !  This  isn't  anything  but  someone's  call- 
ing on  you.  How  are  the  art  lessons?" 

"  I  haven't  had  time  to  do  anything  this  week.  Do 
change  your  dress.  Mr.  Humberstone  is  used  to  seeing 
people  beautifully  gowned;  he  has  lived  in  Paris  and 
London." 

So  Densie,  tired  as  she  was,  put  on  the  little  gray 
dress  and  let  Sally  curl  her  hair,  and  after  a  while  — 

140 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

at  a  very  late  hour,  so  Densie  thought  —  the  bell  rang 
and  Mr.  Humberstone  awaited  an  introduction. 

He  was  just  as  John  had  said,  tall  and  thin,  with  in- 
scrutable mocking  eyes  which  showed  the  whites  all  round 
them,  his  pince-nez  giving  him  a  distinguished  air.  He 
wore  striped  lavender  trousers  and  a  black  cutaway  coat, 
an  exquisite  white-silk  shirt  and  tie  and  a  scarfpin,  a  first- 
water  diamond.  He  had  soft  white  hands,  the  nails 
highly  polished,  and  his  patent-leather  boots  were  as  good 
as  mirrors  in  regard  to  their  finish.  His  mouth  was  thin 
and  cruel  and  had  queer  little  dents  at  the  end.  Densie 
could  not  fathom  him;  he  was  utterly  baffling,  since  no 
one  could  really  look  at  his  eyes  and  read  their  mean- 
ing. 

He  met  Densie  with  a  bored,  slightly  amused  air, 
though  painfully  deferential,  but  his  mocking,  dancing 
eyes  kept  looking  at  Sally,  who  fluttered  about  him  in  all 
her  helpless  prettiness. 

After  a  very  little  Densie  found  herself  dismissed; 
she  did  not  just  know  how  it  was  done,  but  she  had  said 
good  night  like  a  submissive  child  and  was  on  her  way 
to  bed.  Sally  was  going  to  show  Mr.  Humberstone  her 
book  of  sketches. 

As  Densie  passed  down  the  hall  Kenneth  hailed  her, 
beckoning  from  the  darkness  to  come  into  his  room. 

"Sh-h,  Kenneth!     What  is  it?" 

"  You  remember  what  I  said  he  was  like  —  the  wealthy 
dog?" 

Densie  smiled  in  spite  of  herself. 

"Remember?"  he  persisited. 

'  Yes."  She  caught  the  sound  of  Sally's  high-pitched, 
nervous  laugh  and  the  bass  rumble  of  Humberstone's 
voice.  It  frightened  her! 

"Weil  — ain't  he?" 

141 


XIII 

Rex  Humberstone  knew  how  to  charm  a  young  girl. 
He  had  had  much  experience  with  both  men  and  women, 
and  he  seldom  made  a  mistake  in  his  method.  With 
Sally  he  used  the  never-failing  advice,  "  If  you  would 
win  the  girl  woo  the  woman  in  her."  He  saw  the  things 
that  grated  in  her  home,  the  rather  unassthetic  surround- 
ings, he  had  known  her  father  outside  somewhat,  and  he 
looked  upon  Densie  with  the  contempt  with  which  such 
men  do  upon  a  simple  home  body. 

Kenneth's  silver  dollar  was  followed  by  as  many  more 
as  he  was  allowed  to  take.  Sally,  whose  whole  heart 
and  mind  were  given  over  to  this  newcomer,  seemed 
merely  to  float  in  space  and  be  oblivious  of  everyday  du- 
ties or  happenings. 

At  first  Densie  protested  about  Sally's  going  to  a  hotel 
dinner  alone,  it  did  not  seem  to  her  the  proper  thing,  but 
Sally  had  turned  on  her  in  angry  defiance  and  said  that 
if  she  did  not  go  to-night  she  would  run  away  from  home 
to-morrow;  Mr.  Humberstone  loved  her,  she  was  sure 
of  it,  and  he  had  the  right  to  ask  her  to  accompany  him 
in  public. 

"  But,  Sally  dear,"  her  mother  argued,  "  don't  you 
think  he  would  better  wait  until  you  are  engaged  —  then 
it  would  be  his  right.  But  not  now;  you  have  only  known 
him  three  months." 

"  My  dear  mummy,  we  cannot  all  make  love  as  you  and 
father  did.  Everyone  goes  to  hotel  dinners  now  —  it  is 
quite  the  thing.  And  oh,  the  way  he  spends  his  money! 

142 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Why,  he  spares  no  pains  to  give  me  everything  I  want." 

She  was  dressing  herself  in  a  silver-gauze  frock  she  had 
concocted  from  remnants;  it  had  the  style  of  a  Fifth 
Avenue  garment  and  it  became  her  well.  A  black  feath- 
ered hat  was  on  her  dressing  table,  and  long  white  gloves 
suitable  for  a  ballroom.  Densie  shook  her  head. 

"  At  the  afternoon  party  at  the  Century  Club  he  had 
a  wonderful  corsage  waiting  for  me  when  I  came  in.  All 
the  women  envied  me;  older,  married  women,  too.  No 
one  was  quite  so  handsome  or  witty,  and  everyone  was 
surprised  that  he  had  singled  me  out  for  his  companion. 
You  see  he  is  a  modern  man  of  the  world  —  so  you  must 
not  judge  him  by  your  old  standards." 

"  He  drinks,  Sally.     His  face  shows  that  plainly." 

"  So  does  father,"  she  flashed  back.  It  was  the  first 
time  the  subject  had  ever  been  mentioned  between  them. 

"  Not  with  my  consent  or  in  my  house.  Besides,  that 
does  not  excuse  Mr.  Humberstone." 

"  All  men  drink  a  little  —  and  women  too.  It  is  very 
antique  not  to  see  the  reason  in  it." 

"  Have  you  taken  things  to  drink  when  you  were  with 
him?  "  Densie  clutched  her  daughter's  arm. 

"  Yes."  Sally  tilted  her  reddish-gold  head  in  defiance. 
"  Goodness,  don't  look  as  if  I  had  committed  murder !  A 
glass  of  champagne  with  dinner  is  only  the  proper  thing." 

Densie  was  silent.  Sally  readjusted  the  hat  a  half 
dozen  times. 

"  Do  I  please  you?  "  she  demanded,  whirling  round. 

"  No,  it  does  not  please  me  at  all.  I  cannot  like  Rex 
Humberstone." 

Sally's  face  went  white  with  sudden  anger.  '  Then 
we  must  agree  to  disagree.  What  will  you  say  when  we 
are  married?  " 

"  I  will  wait  until  he  conies  to  ask  us  for  you !  " 

143 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Rex  is  romantic;  he  is  liable  to  kidnap  me  and  ask  no 
one." 

'  That  is  not  the  way.  There  is  only  one  way  to  do 
such  things,  Sally  —  the  dignified  way.  Don't  make  a 
mistake  that  will  shadow  your  life.  I  do  not  like  this 
man.  What  do  you  know  of  his  past?  He  may  have 
been  married  before  for  all  you  know." 

"  Am  I  to  send  a  detective  about  after  him?  " 

"  I  would  rather  see  you  do  that  than  marry  a  stranger. 
A  good  man  never  resents  investigation  —  only  a  rogue 
does  that.  I  do  not  like  the  superlative  way  he  does 
things  —  the  excessive  attentions  are  neither  normal  nor 
sensible,  nor  do  they  augur  for  being  permanent.  You 
could  not  go  on  having  such  attentions  after  marriage  — 
you  would  have  no  time  for  duties.  These  flowers,  these 
boxes  of  candy,  these  beautiful  things  he  has  given  you  on 
so  slight  an  acquaintance!  More  than  that,  Sally,  the 
fact  that  he  does  not  find  congenial  surroundings  in  your 
own  home  —  Dean  Laddbarry  would  rather  come  to  see 
you  in  your  own  home  than  any  other  place.  And  so  it 
should  be!" 

'  That  boy "  Sally  began  impatiently. 

'  That  boy  —  bless  him!  "  repeated  her  mother. 

11  Don't  begin  praising  Dean.  All  very  well  in  his  way, 
but  it  is  not  my  way.  Rex  is  my  ideal  —  why,  everyone 
is  mad  about  him  —  the  way  he  dresses,  the  way  he 
talks " 

"And  his  character?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  have  never  seer  any  glaring  vice.  I  do 
hope  you  won't  go  about  asking  people  as  to  his  charac- 
ter—  I'm  old  enough  to  take  care  of  myself." 

"  He  does  not  like  me."  Densie  picked  up  some  trifles 
after  Sally.  "  He  is  never  comfortable  in  my  presence  — 
have  you  noticed?  " 

144 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  You  are  both  from  and  in  different  worlds."  Sally 
was  weary  of  the  debate.  "  I'm  sure  he  is  always  polite." 

"  That  is  the  least  of  it.  Sally,  I  am  afraid  that  Rex 
only  loves  your  beautiful  unlived  youth  —  don't  let  him 
rob  you  of  it.  Think  well."  She  peered  anxiously  at 
Sally's  beautiful  little  face. 

Sally  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  If  he  loves  my  youth 
I  adore  his  wicked  middle  age,"  she  said  flippantly. 
"  We  are  like  Jack  Sprat  and  his  wife." 

"  You  think  he  will  marry  you?  " 

"  Of  course  —  as  soon  as  he  thinks  it's  time  to  speak!  " 

"  He  is  not  the  marrying  kind."  Deasie's  lips  closed 
in  a  firm  line. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean  he  is  the  sort  that  plays  '  pal ' —  long-drawn- 
out  affairs  that  end  nowhere  for  the  woman !  The  kind 
that  takes  your  youth  as  his  shield  against  age,  that  de- 
lights in  '  playing.'  But  marriage,  a  house,  a  family,  a 
tired  wife  instead  of  a  pretty  unhampered  girl  always  con- 
cert pitch  for  him  —  no,  that  is  not  his  wish  or  intention. 
Old-fashioned  as  I  am  I  have  seen  such  men  before.  I 
warn  you.  He  wants  to  be  a  playmate,  Sally,  not  a  hus- 
band —  there  is  a  rare  satisfaction  in  having  such  an  ex- 
quisite young  girl  as  his  prize,  keeping  her  away  from  her 
own  kind.  Youth  should  be  with  youth,  my  child.  You 
will  find  your  friends  will  drop  away;  you  will  have  to 
meet  and  know  his  friends  —  equally  bizarre,  battered 
men  and  knowing  women  of  the  world.  They  delight  in 
stealing  youth  whenever  they  can." 

Sally  wrapped  her  cloak  round  herself  carefully. 

"  To-morrow  night  Rex  is  going  to  take  me  to  his  club 
dance.  I  shall  not  be  home  until  late  —  and  we  are  going 
to  the  theater  Friday.  Is  there  anything  you  wish  to 


say? 


145 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Her  voice  was  as  impersonal  as  Harriet's  had  been. 
Densie  felt  stabbed.  Kenneth  was  all  that  was  left  to 
her  —  and  even  Kenneth  would  soon  be  grown  up. 

"  No,"  she  said,  making  no  further  advance;  "  I  wish 
you  would  take  a  key.  I  am  tired  and  shall  go  to  bed 
very  early." 

She  stood  at  the  window  with  Kenneth  and  watched 
Sally  step  into  the  machine  that  Humberstone  had  sent 
for  her.  That  was  another  point  of  variance  between 
Sally  and  her  mother.  Why  did  Humberstone  send  a 
cab  or  an  auto  for  her?  Why  could  he  not  have  come 
personally,  as  Dean  always  did,  and  chatted  with  her 
mother  in  friendly  fashion  while  Sally  gave  herself  a  last 
prink? 

Densie  did  not  approve  of  this  any  more  than  of  the 
public  hotel  dinner,  unchaperoned.  She  wondered  what 
her  Aunt  Sally  would  have  said  —  she  could  almost  hear 
her  stinging  reproof. 

'  Well,  mummy,  shall  we  have  games  to-night?  "  asked 
Kenneth  as  the  machine  whirred  away. 

"  If  you  like."  Densie  stroked  his  flaxen  head. 
"  Kenneth,  when  you  grow  up  and  have  someone  as  pretty 
as  Sally  who  likes  you,  always  go  get  her,  son,  and  be  nice 
to  her  mother." 

"  I  don't  want  any  dames,"  said  Kenneth,  to  his  moth- 
er's surprise. 

'  Who  told  you  to  say  dames  instead  of  women?  " 

''  The  kids.  By  heck,  you  ought  to  hear  the  new  way 
to  swear  —  shall  I  show  you  ?  " 

'  No,  never  swear  —  not  even  in  your  thoughts?  " 

"  If  you  don't  do  your  share  of  it  the  kids  make  you 
put  your  tongue  on  a  frosted  iron  post  —  you  know  what 
that  does,"  he  protested. 

'  Well,  let's  make  taffy,"  Densie  proposed  vaguely. 

146 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

She  was  trying  mentally  to  juggle  the  destinies  and 
problems  of  her  family  and  herself  and  remember  at  the 
same  time  how  much  sugar  to  how  much  molasses. 

Sally  was  having  one  of  her  wonder  times.  Seated 
across  the  rosy  shaded  table  in  a  discreet  corner  of  a  palm 
room,  a  string  orchestra  playing  light  catchy  things  that 
make  one's  feet  tap  and  one's  heartbeat  a  trifle  faster,  she 
looked  at  Rex  Humberstone  with  unconcealed  adoration. 
His  mocking  eyes  stared  at  her  with  a  pleasant  and  rather 
triumphant  expression,  which  Sally  did  not  perceive.  She 
was  telling  him  some  girlish  experience  with  all  the  added 
zest  of  having  a  beloved  audience,  her  imagination  height- 
ening some  of  the  details  and  beautifying  some  of  the  set- 
ting. 

'  You  like  me  a  little,  don't  you,  Sally?  "  Humberstone 
asked  as  she  finished. 

"  Of  course !  "  Sally  could  not  pretend  with  Humber- 
stone, she  was  too  much  infatuated  not  to  throw  down  all 
armaments. 

"  I'm  older  than  you,"  he  bantered. 

"  I  hate  boys,"  she  insisted. 

"  Do  you  know  how  pretty  you  are?  I've  seen  the 
most  beautiful  women  in  Europe  and  I'd  rather  know 
Sally  Plummer  than  any  of  them." 

"  Really?  "     She  laid  down  her  knife  and  fork. 

"  Really!  You  don't  know  your  charm  yet.  I  sup- 
pose I'll  have  to  sit  by  and  be  a  mere  onlooker  in  a  little 
while,  won't  I?" 

"  Not  unless  you  want  to."  She  smiled  childishly  at 
him. 

'*  Does  your  mother  mind  your  coming  to  dinner  ?  " 

"  Mother's  old-fashioned,"  was  all  she  told  him. 
1  You're   not  —  you're   the   newest,   loveliest   fashion 
I've  ever  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet.     I  never  liked 

147 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

anyone  half  so  much  as  you  —  let  us  have  some  cham- 
pagne and  pledge  eternal  friendship  —  will  you,  Sally?  " 

"  I'd  be  happy  to,"  she  said  demurely. 

The  champagne  was  very  sparkling  and  bitter  sweet, 
and  it  made  her  feel  delightfully  relaxed  and  willing  to 
agree  with  the  world  at  large;  it  made  the  music  gayer 
and  the  food  far  better  tasting,  the  dining  room  more 
attractive  and  Humberstone  more  to  be  adored. 

He  knew  how  to  entertain  her,  to  tell  her  this  and  that 
incident  of  his  life,  to  flatter  her  subtly  and  praise  her, 
making  her  feel  that  all  other  men  were  boorish  and  un- 
interesting and  that  no  one  but  Rex  Humberstone,  wisest 
of  men,  really  understood  her  complex  nature. 

So  they  pledged  their  friendship  with  the  wine  and  then 
went  off  to  a  vaudeville  bill,  with  Humberstone  tenderly 
folding  her  cloak  about  her  and  half  lifting  her  into  the 
cab. 

Sally  had  thought  during  the  dinner  to  ask  him  with 
childish  bluntness  why  he  had  never  married  —  to  which 
he  had  glibly  made  reply :  "  Because  I  made  myself  wait 
for  you." 

And  Sally  thought  of  that  as  they  whirled  off  to  the  vau- 
deville with  Humberstone  dangerously  close  beside  her. 
She  dismissed  any  scruples  about  being  unchaperoned  be- 
cause of  what  he  had  said.  She  was  going  to  marry  him 
and  have  nothing  but  love,  romance,  luxury,  adoration  — 
in  truth,  it  was  fun  to  be  alive  and  see  what  would  happen 
next! 

She  came  home  after  the  vaudeville,  to  be  left  at  her 
doorstep,  because  Humberstone  said  he  must  not  keep  her 
up  any  later.  But  the  next  morning  he  sent  her  a  fas- 
cinating blue-leather  engagement  book  with  a  little  gold 
pencil,  the  card  accompanying  it  saying: 

"  For  Sally  to  keep  her  Rex  engagements  in  line  —  no 

148 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

others  will  remain  legible  if  she  tries  to  write  them  down ! 
This  is  a  magic  book." 

She  showed  it  to  her  mother  delightedly.  She  had  not 
got  up  until  late  and  was  having  a  ten-o'clock  cup  of  coffee. 

"  It  is  lovely,  dear  —  but  he  ought  to  wait  until  he  has 
spoken,"  was  all  Densie  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  say. 
"  Don't  let  him  be  a  time  waster  —  so  many  men  like  him 
merely  want  the  fun  of  a  young  girl's  companionship,  and 
when  they  do  marry  it  is  cold-bloodedly  —  to  gain  money 
or  position." 

Sally  set  her  coffee  cup  down  with  a  little  clatter. 
"  You  are  impossible,"  she  began,  "  and  I  shall  not  tell 
you  anything  more.  I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  she  added 
with  unconscious  humor,  "  about  the  beautiful  time  we 
had  —  an  eight-dollar  dinner  and  champagne  —  yes, 
champagne  to  pledge  our  friendship  with,  and  it  was  quite 
proper,  I'm  sure.  I  saw  two  of  daddy's  friends  eating 
there  and  they  bowed  to  me  quite  respectfully.  I  was  as 
well  dressed  as  anyone  in  the  dining  room,  and  Rex  said  I 
looked  the  prettiest  of  all.  We  had  alligator-pear  salad 
—  did  you  ever  eat  it?  And  peach  Melba  for  dessert, 
and  a  special  sort  of  coffee  made  by  a  little  black  boy  in  a 
Turkish  costume  —  with  rum  burning  on  top!  I  adore 
such  ways  of  living.  When  I'm  married  I  want  to  live 
at  hotels  and  never,  never  have  to  bother  about  anything 
but  clothes !  "  She  yawned  wearily. 

"What  lesson  is  it  to-day?"  Densie  had  finished 
crumbing  the  table. 

"  I  can't  take  any  lesson  to-day  —  I  want  to  think  about 
last  night.  Besides,  there's  the  dance  to-night  and  I  must 
lie  down  this  afternoon.  Make  Ken  play  outside." 

Densie  stood  in  the  doorway  between  the  dining  room 
and  the  kitchen. 

"  Your  father  would  not  like  you  to  do  this,  Sally. 

149 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

You  look  tired  to  death  this  morning,  and  if  you're  ever 
going  to  do  anything  with  your  art  you'll  have  to  keep 
on  applying  yourself.  Mr.  Humberstone  doesn't  seem  to 
think  of  anything  but  what  he  wishes.  Though  if  he  is 
a  business  man  I  should  think  he  would  have  to  get  up 
early  too." 

"Rex  has  money  —  he's  a  stock  broker  and  it  isn't 
like  having  daddy's  warehouse.  You  don't  seem  able  to 
understand  that  there  can  be  different  —  different  stratas 
of  society." 

With  which  Sally  flounced  out  of  the  room  leaving 
Densie  to  do  the  dishes  and  wonder,  first  about  Rex  Hum- 
berstone, then  about  Harriet,  next  John,  and  lastly  her 
neglected  little  interests,  which  had  been,  perforce,  shoved 
aside  since  she  returned  from  New  York  in  January. 


John  laughed  at  Densie's  worries  regarding  Sally. 
When  Rex  took  her  to  the  country  club,  and  she  returned, 
her  dress  torn  from  a  too  rough  cotillion  and  her  cheeks 
flushed  with  wine,  a  fool's  cap  and  a  few  trifles  as  a  re- 
ward for  the  evening's  exertion,  Densie  used  to  plead 
with  her  to  stop  this  nonsense  or  at  least  wait  until  she  was 
Rex's  wife. 

But  John  was  rather  pleased  with  her  "  success,"  as  he 
named  it.  He,  too,  believed  in  the  "  different  stratas  of 
society."  Moreover,  Humberstone  had  a  certain  fast 
rich  following;  they  made  money  quickly  and  lost  it  at  an 
equal  speed.  One  never  knew  how  they  were  progress- 
ing. They  lived  at  a  consistently  fast  gait,  however,  with 
sometimes  the  other  fellow's  I  O  U's  in  their  pockets  and 
sometimes  theirs  in  the  other  fellow's.  Humberstone 
was  more  or  less  of  an  enigma.  He  had  come  from 
New  York  a  short  time  previous  to  his  meeting  Sally,  a 
middle-aged  man  who  could  drink  everyone  under  the 
table,  who  understood  the  gentle  art  of  poker,  who  owned 
a  good  race  horse,  had  a  smart  roadster,  played  three- 
cushion  billiards  and  had  trophy  cups  from  London  to 
prove  his  record,  who  dressed  in  the  latest  fashion  with 
silk  shirts  heavily  monogramed  and  weird  expensive  suits 
that  no  one  else  "  could  have  gotten  away  with,"  as  Sally's 
father  rather  enviously  admitted.  John  was  tiring  of  the 
standardized  tweed  for  business  and  black  serge  for  Sun- 
day. 

Humberstone  dabbled  in  stocks,  was  interested  in  cop- 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

per  mines  and  played  cards  altogether  too  well  for  a  gen- 
tleman. He  never  pressed  his  business  interests  on  any- 
one, they  had  to  come  to  him,  wherein  lay  the  secret  of  his 
success.  He  knew  how  to  attract  attention  without  seem- 
ing to  do  so.  He  read  French  novels  in  conspicuous 
places  so  that  no  one  could  help  noticing,  and  had  auto- 
graphed photographs  of  prominent  persons.  No  one 
knew  how  he  obtained  them,  but  he  would  casually  refer 
to  the  time  he  had  visited  the  Prince  of  Monaco  and  had  a 
bully  run  on  the  Monte  Carlo  bank,  or  the  coaching  trip 
the  Duchess  of  Lansdowne  gave,  during  which  he  wras 
expected  to  pay  attention  to  an  extremely  ugly  Russian 
princess.  It  was  well  done  —  and  not  overdone.  But  if 
anyone  looked  closely  at  him  his  face  had  that  soft,  flabby 
look  which  tells  of  the  lack  of  real  living  and  doing;  he 
was  "  soft  all  over,"  as  Kenneth  put  it  —  and  a  coward  in 
everything  except  conversation. 

He  had  always  been  popular  with  married  women  until 
he  met  Sally  —  he  was  a  most  obliging  bachelor,  eternally 
making  a  complete  table  for  bridge  or  the  needed  person 
at  an  informal  dinner,  ready  to  turn  the  pages  of  music 
for  some  dizzy  soprano  or  to  have  a  shot  at  pool  with 
cloth-cutting  nuisances,  yet  retaining  his  interest  to  all  ap- 
pearances. He  understood  the  way  married  women  felt 
neglected  when  romance  flew  out  the  window  and  nothing 
flew  in.  He  knew  how  to  be  a  gallant  escort  —  even  um- 
brellas were  gracefully  handled  in  his  long  white  hands, 
and  he  used  to  describe  his  duels  when  a  student  at  Heidel- 
berg in  a  nonchalant  fashion  that  made  the  average  blue- 
serge-suited  American  who  had  never  done  anything  more 
thrilling  than  have  a  finger  tip  cut  off  in  a  mowing  ma- 
chine writhe  in  envy. 

He  invested  a  "  trifle  "  for  John  Plummer  and  doubled 
it.  This  made  John  lenient  toward  him,  and  when  he 

152 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

had  told  Densie  and  she  had  expressed  no  approval  he 
said  she  was  in  danger  of  becoming  narrow-minded;  these 
clubs  seemed  to  make  manhaters  out  of  the  women. 
Sally  was  having  her  fling,  he  declared,  and  if  she  chose 
to  marry  Rex  —  well,  the  child  could  do  a  great  deal 
worse. 

"  No  mere  boy  could  supply  Sally's  wants  or  her  crav- 
ing for  excitement  —  she  is  really  adapted  to  an  older 
man,"  he  insisted.  "  As  for  Humberstone's  not  spending 
his  evenings  here  —  well,  I  don't  blame  him.  He  is  not 
used  to  a  conservative  home  with  a  family  Bible  to  stare 
him  out  of  countenance." 

So  with  John  as  an  aid  and  abetter  Sally  went  her  own 
way  —  to  dance  and  theater  and  dinner,  motoring  or  driv- 
ing or  sailing  —  nothing  very  strenuous,  such  as  Dean's 
old-time  hikes  or  fishing  trips  or  five  sets  of  tennis  in  an 
afternoon  —  nothing  of  that  sort.  She  read  all  the  nov- 
els Rex  bought  for  her,  and  allowed  them  to  change  her 
views  and  color  her  notions.  He  gave  her  many  beauti- 
ful things  —  ribbons  and  lace  handkerchiefs  and  boxes  of 
beautiful  gloves  and  a  charming  little  rope  of  pearls. 
Densie  said  an  engagement  ring  would  be  more  to  the 
purpose!  He  also  lavished  money  on  Kenneth  and  in- 
sisted on  buying  him  a  bicycle;  and  when  he  met  John  he 
took  him  over  to  the  club  and  treated  him  royally.  But 
Densie  remained  a  stranger. 

She  wrote  Harriet  she  was  worried  about  the  affair  and 
that  if  Sally  did  marry  him  she  was  bound  to  be  unhappy. 
To  which  Harriet  replied  in  a  sincere  and  characteristic 
fashion  that  polarities  were  bound  to  marry  and  that  from 
all  her  mother  said  she  judged  Sally  and  Mr.  Humber- 
stone  were  polarities,  and  if  so  the  union  might  easily  be 
an  agreeable  surprise  —  statistics  proved  that  when  for- 
eigners married  each  other  without  acquaintanceship  be- 

153 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

forehand  the  resulting  estrangements  often  came  from  the 
fact  of  the  husband  and  wife  being  entirely  alike  as  to 
views  and  tastes  and  therefore  no  contrasting  current  of 
ideas  to  stimulate  felicity! 

That  was  all  Harriet  had  to  say  on  the  subject.  Mar- 
riage never  appealed  to  her  personally  and  she  was  too 
intent  on  winning  a  five-hundred-dollar  prize  for  an  essay 
—  half  of  which  she  was  to  loan  Leila  so  Leila  need  not 
go  home  for  her  vacation,  but  stay  on  in  the  city  for  the 
summer  courses.  It  did  not  occur  to  Harriet,  despite  her 
promises,  to  send  the  possible  prize  money  home  to  her 
mother  or  to  come  home  herself.  Harriet  was  to  take  a 
summer  course  also,  and  to  make  her  trip  to  the  canning 
factories  to  unearth  the  child-labor  conditions  and  flaunt 
them  before  an  uninterested  Washington  Congress. 

Sally  grew  very  slender  and  older  looking;  circles  were 
under  her  eyes  and  she  had  an  actual  need  of  rouge.  She 
spent  nearly  all  her  time  on  clothes  —  for  like  all  jaded 
men  Humberstone  depended  on  novelty  to.  sustain  his  in- 
terest. Had  Sally  appeared  in  calico  he  would  not  have 
seen  her  beauty  so  vividly.  But  because  she  lent  all  her 
ability  to  making  new  creations  and  because  she  had  the 
skin,  eyes  and  hair  that  could  wear  what  few  others  could, 
he  never  found  himself  bored  with  her.  He  liked  the 
facts  that  people  turned  to  watch  them  as  they  passed  and 
that  men  said  to  him  in  private:  "  Who's  the  bonny  in- 
fant —  you  old  rascal?  " 

At  which  he  would  preen  himself  and  offer  to  treat  to  a 
drink. 

"Has  he  never  talked  about  his  own  home?"  de- 
manded Densie  one  morning  when  Sally  was  entirely  too 
listless  and  headachy  to  allow  her  mother's  heart  to  beat 
normally.  "  If  he  does  not  tell  you  about  his  family  I 
shall  ask  him !  " 

154 


I 


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CX 

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A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  If  you  insult  him  I'll  never  let  him  come  to  the 
house,"  Sally  defied  her.  "If  daddy  is  satisfied  —  and 
daddy  is  round  town  and  knows  —  what  have  you  to 
say?" 

"  You  have  not  answered  my  question." 

"  Yes,  of  course  he  has  —  but  his  family  are  all  dead 
—  years  and  years  ago.  He  has  a  sister  in  Australia  — 
that's  all  I  know  or  care.  I'm  not  going  to  marry  his 
family." 

"  Has  he  asked  you  to  marry  him?  " 

"  Not  yet."  Sally  was  on  the  verge  of  tears.  She 
was  beginning  to  wonder  about  her  engagement  herself, 
but  she  would  not  admit  it  now. 

"  And  where  was  he  educated?  " 

"  I  don't  know  nor  care !  I  love  him.  When  we  are 
married  I'll  know  all  about  his  past,  I  suppose." 

"  A  woman  who  marries  a  man  without  knowing  about 
his  past  beforehand  is  a  foolish  virgin,"  her  mother  said 
solemnly.  "  I  don't  suppose  you  are  going  to  art  school 
to-day.  You  don't  seem  to  ever  want  to  go.  But  I  shall 
not  be  home  for  luncheon,  so  please  see  to  Kenneth,  will 
you?" 

"  Club  meeting?  "  asked  Sally  insolently.  "  The  Psy- 
chology of  a  Daffodil,  I  presume !  " 

"  What  would  you  do  if  I  decided  t©  become  a  real 
club  woman  ?  "  Densie  asked  sharply.  "  Would  you  miss 
the  home !  " 

"  We  would  all  rejoice;  it  is  a  bit  hard  to  forge  ahead 
and  have  someone  eternally  drag  you  back." 

Tears  came  into  Densie's  eyes.  Without  speaking  she 
left  the  room  and,  presently,  the  house.  The  moment  she 
had  gone  Sally  telephoned  to  Rex. 

"  I'm  blue  to-day,"  she  eoaxed.  "  Can't  we  do  some- 
thing this  afternoon?  " 

"  Of  course  we  can  —  say  what!  "  Humberstone  was 

155 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

blue,  too  —  bored  to  extinction  with  himself,  and  relying 
on  Sally's  vivacious  spirits. 

"  Let's  take  a  long  drive  and  dinner  at  the  Turnback 
Inn." 

"  I'll  call  for  you  at  two,  lady,"  he  ended  the  conversa- 
tion. 

Sally  rushed  Kenneth  through  his  lunch  and  proceeded 
to  dress  herself  with  care.  The  day  suddenly  became 
rosy  and  worth  while.  She  did  not  realize  what  was  hap- 
pening—  that  she  was  fast  becoming  dependent  on  Rex 
Humberstone  for  her  joy  of  living,  that  he  was  a  stimu- 
lus which,  when  wanting,  made  everything  seem  stale  and 
unbearable.  It  was  like  living  in  a  play  to  be  his  pal  — 
he  never  seemed  to  consider  money  or  time,  and  he  was 
the  most  distinguished,  unusual  person  in  the  world.  No 
wonder  the  married  women  called  her  a  doll  and  bowed 
coldly  to  her.  Indeed  they  began  to  say,  "  If  that  was 
my  daughter,"  and  to  murmur  awful  things  about  Hum- 
berstone and  say  that  Sally  was  certainly  older  than 
twenty  years  and  a  designing  little  minx. 

So  goes  the  see-saw. 

Sally  put  on  a  creamy  linen  dress  with  a  soft  little  blue- 
silk  coat  and  a  motor  bonnet.  She  wore  blue-suede  shoes 
and  stockings  to  match,  as  well  as  a  pair  of  fresh  gloves. 
She  was  a  pretty  picture  as  he  drew  up  before  her  door 
—  the  Hendersons  all  lined  up  to  watch  the  procedure ! 

Sally  had  left  a  note  for  her  mother.  She  danced  into 
the  roadster  to  look  up  adoringly  at  Hu:nberstone.  Au- 
tomobiles were  still  rather  scarce  and  Humberstone's  was 
an  attractive  black-and-white  affair  with  side  curtains  and 
limousine  trappings. 

It  was  a  warm  June  day  with  the  country  that  light 
tender  green,  and  with  blossoms  perfuming  the  dusty 
roads.  Sally  and  early  summer  were  synonymous.  Hum- 

156 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

berstone  felt  again  that  exhilarated  thrill  of  youth  that 
he  had  fancied  was  forever  lost  as  they  darted  in  and 
out  the  country  roads,  over  hills,  beside  streams,  with 
Sally,  veritable  spirit  of  the  season,  at  his  side. 

They  had  dinner  at  the  Turnback  Inn,  a  semifashion- 
able  sort  of  place,  where  they  found  a  private  dining  room 
and  proceeded  to  order  an  elaborate  menu.  They  took 
a  quick  trip  in  a  motor  launch  on  the  near-by  creek,  while 
Humberstone  tord  Sally  of  Italian  skies  and  how  well  she 
would  compare  with  the  women  in  Paris,  and  Sally  sal 
listening  to  him,  her  gold  eyes  like  great  suns  in  happy 
innocence. 

Humberstone  always  messed  his  food,  as  Densie  would 
have  called  it.  She  had  taught  her  children  the  doctrine 
of  the  clean  plate  as  she  had  been  taught,  and  to  eat  what- 
ever was  set  before  them  unless  it  was  alcohol!  Hum- 
berstone liked  half  a  dozen  dishes  and  a  taste  of  each, 
and  he  had  made  Sally  feel  it  was  rather  like  a  peasant 
not  to  do  likewise.  So  she  was  beginning  deliberately  to 
waste  half  her  food  and  drink  a  glass  of  wine  with  her 
entree. 

"  You  know,  Rex,"  she  said  as  they  came  to  their  des- 
sert, "  I'm  terribly  behind  with  my  art  work  —  I'm  afraid 
I  don't  do  anything  but  think  about  you."  Despite  her 
brave  protests  Sally  did  have  twinges  of  conscience. 

"  Hurrah  for  Rex !  I  didn't  think  I  could  amount  to 
that  much,"  he  saluted  her  gracefully.  "  Don't  be  a  grub 
—  your  sister  is  grub  enough  from  what  you  tell  me. 
Just  be  your  lovely  self  —  you  were  born  for  pleasure." 

"  Yes,  only "  she  began. 

"Only?  Your  father's  business  wobbly?  Never 
mind.  I  order  eight  dozen  menu  cards  at  eight  dollars  a 
dozen.  I'm  going  to  send  them  to  the  Old  Ladies' 

Home " 

157 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  No,  that  isn't  fair !  "  Sally  blushed.  "  I  didn't  mean 
to  have  you  say  that  —  only  I  must  do  my  part." 

"  Perhaps  you'll  have  some  orders  for  light  stuff  that 
won't  take  much  time." 

Humberstone  frowned;  he  was  always  bored  when  any- 
one began  to  face  realities  and  discuss  them  or  try  to  live 
up  to  them.  He  did  not  want  Sally  to  work  —  merely  to 
play  for  his  amusement  and  at  his  bidding." 

"Do  you  really  think  my  work  is  good?"  she  said 
anxiously.  "  You  have  seen  so  much  work  that  is  splen- 
did." 

"  How  can  I  tell  when  I  like  Sally  better  than  all  the 
paintings  in  Europe?  Of  course  it  is  good  —  but  don't 
strain  your  eyes.  A  woman  who  wears  glasses  is  unen- 
durable." 

Sally  was  silent.  At  rock  bottom  Sally  had  both  loy- 
alty and  common  sense,  occasionally  these  asserted  them- 
selves, only  to  be  pushed  aside  by  this  new  hypnotic  per- 
son who  seemed  to  make  her  an  abject  slave  wishing 
to  do  only  his  will.  She  was  wondering  what  he 
would  say  if  he  knew  she  did  wear  glasses  when  she 
worked  —  her  mother  had  wisely  seen  to  that  —  and  that 
she  felt  it  was  only  fair  she  must  earn  her  way,  particu- 
larly when  she  was  of  so  little  help  to  her  mother,  and  her 
father  looked  more  worried  each  evening. 

"  Don't  have  blue  butterflies,"  Humberstone  urged. 
'  Tell  me  something  funny." 

Inspired  by  the  request  Sally  obeyed. 

Humberstone  would  not  come  in  when  he  brought  her 
back;  he  never  came  into  the  flat  except  for  a  scant  mo- 
ment when  he  waited  for  Sally  to  take  her  away,  but  more 
often  he  sent  a  cab. 

They  made  an  agreement  about  to-morrow's  engage- 

158 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ment,  and  then  Sally  went  wearily  up  the  stairs.  She  felt 
a  strange  sense  of  fatigue  after  she  had  been  in  his  com- 
pany, he  seemed  unconsciously  to  draw  on  her  reserve 
supply  of  energy. 

She  found  her  mother  and  Dean  Laddbarry  and  Ken- 
neth playing  a  game  for  the  latter's  benefit.  Her  mother 
merely  glanced  at  her,  but  Sally  read  her  disapproval. 

Dean  jumped  up  and  held  out  his  hand.  u  You  can't 
say  I'm  not  to  see  your  mother  and  Ken,"  he  laughed 
good-naturedly.  "  Besides,  I've  some  news  —  I'm  ex- 
pecting really  to  go  West  soon.  Isn't  that  good?  " 

"  Very,"  she  answered  coolly.  "  I  had  a  wonderful 
drive  with  Mr.  Humberstone  —  oh,  don't  stop  the  game, 
please  —  we  went  fifty  miles  and  had  dinner  at  an  inn. 
Did  you  get  my  note,  mother?  " 

"  Yes."  Densie  did  not  look  at  her  again.  "  Come, 
Ken,  it's  bedtime.  Before  you  go,  Dean,  I'll  give  you 
those  clippings." 

There  was  a  sympathy  and  comradeship  between  the 
two  which  even  Sally  in  her  present  state  of  distraction 
admired.  She  wondered  with  a  sudden  little  fury  if  they 
had  dared  to  talk  about  her.  Dean  seemed  uncouth  and 
idiotic  with  his  rough  clothes  and  everlastingly  goody- 
goody  chatter. 

When  she  was  alone  with  him  she  said,  "  I  don't  want 
you  to  come  to  see  me  any  more.  I  am  —  practically  — 
engaged." 

"  To  that  cad?  "  asked  the  boy  roughly.  "  Well,  I'm 
mighty  sorry." 

;<  Why,  how  dare  you  !  "  Sally  stamped  her  little  foot. 
"  How  dare  you  !  " 

"  Because  I  love  you  and  always  will.  Because  he's 
not  the  sort  for  you.  Your  mother  thinks  so  too." 

159 


"  You've  talked  about  me  —  two  intruders !  "  Her 
anger  was  almost  amusing.  "  Dean,  take  your  hat  and 
go  out  of  this  house  and  never  speak  to  me  again !  " 

"  Don't  send  me  off  like  that,"  he  begged.  "  Listen, 
Sally;  you're  on  the  wrong  track.  If  he  was  the  right 
sort  I'd  never  say  anything,  no  matter  how  hard  it  was  to 
give  you  up.  But  he's  not.  You'll  see  it  some  day. 
Sally,  darling,  he's  an  old  man  and  he's  flattered  you  into 
believing  him  a  half-god." 

"  I  told  you  to  go."     She  pointed  to  the  door. 

"  I'll  ask  you  this  —  are  you  really  engaged?  "  he  in- 
sisted. 

"  I  said  almost." 

"  At  his  time  of  life  there's  no  reason  for  him  to  lose 
another  twenty-four  hours.  He's  old  enough  to  know 
his  mind.  If  he  hasn't  asked  you  to  marry  him  clean  cut, 
you  ought  not  to  go  out  with  him  as  you  do.  Nice  girls 
don't!" 

"  So  —  I'm  not  a  nice  girl?  " 

'  You  are,  Sally,  but  you  won't  stay  so  —  you'll  be  like 
all  those  painted-up  dolls  at  the  hotels  —  just  tagging 
along.  I'm  not  altogether  an  idiot." 

"  Because  of  our  very  old  friendship,  I  do  forgive  you," 
she  said  presently;  "  and  if  you  love  me  so  much  I  sup- 
pose it  hurts  to  know  I  shall  belong  to  someone  else,"  she 
finally  conceded;  "  but  I'd  rather  you  never  talked  to  me 
again." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  long  hard  moment.  Then  he 
said:  ''  Is  there  no  use  waiting,  Sally  —  sure  you  won't 
change? " 

"  Positive  —  and  I  am  quite  sure  Mr.  Humberstone  is 
not  what  you  and  mother  would  like  to  infer.  Daddy 
doesn't  think  so." 

Dean  started  to  reply,  then  he  thought  better  of  it. 

1 60 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  If  you  ever  do  change,  Sally  —  I'm  about  as  usual,"  was 
all  he  told  her. 

The  next  morning  Sally  informed  her  mother  that  she 
had  dismissed  Dean,  and  refused  to  hear  anything  in  his 
defense.  The  same  day  she  received  an  order  for  three 
dozen  menu  cards  for  a  Mrs.  Hester  Smith  —  alias  Rex 
Humberstone  —  which  perked  up  her  spirits  considerably. 
On  the  strength  of  this  she  bought  a  new  hat.  Humber- 
stone had  felt  it  was  the  way  to  prevent  Sally's  becoming 
serious.  He  loathed  anything  serious.  Growing  old 
was  serious  —  his  forty-five  years  seemed  goblins  that 
came  and  sat  all  about  his  bed  nights  and  haunted  him. 
Some  of  the  goblins  were  wicked  and  undesirable;  others, 
far  back  in  the  calendar,  the  mediocre  sort;  and  the  pres- 
ent goblins,  the  last  five  years,  faded  neurotic  sort  of 
things,  hinting  of  future  desolateness  unless  he  wooed  and 
won  youth.  Sally  was  youth  ! 

But  as  to  marrying  Sally  —  that  would  be  too  grave 
an  undertaking.  He  did  not  fancy  Densie  as  a  mother- 
in-law.  Marriage  was  for  the  young  and  palship  for  the 
old.  Things  were  quite  comfortable  as  they  were.  Sally 
was  beautiful  and  had  plenty  of  leisure  time.  Her  friend- 
ship with  him  would  teach  her  how  to  pick  a  rich  hus- 
band at  thirty.  By  the  time  Sally  was  thirty  Humber- 
stone felt  with  a  gruesome  shiver  that  he  could  no  longer 
keep  up  the  pace,  he  would  turn  to  sanitariums  and  break- 
fast gruels  as  his  final  setting. 

But  for  the  present  he  must  have  Sally  —  and  keep 
sending  orders  for  menu  cards  from  this  rich  and  ever- 
entertaining  Hester  Smith  and  her  friends,  because  that 
would  keep  Sally  under  the  belief  that  the  world  clamored 
for  her  work  —  and  she,  too,  would  be  contented  as  she 
was! 

161 


XV 

One  fall  night  John  came  home  with  disturbing  news. 
The  house  of  Plummer  &  Plummer  was  sold  —  or  rather 
absorbed  by  a  grocery  syndicate  that  operated  from  coast 
to  coast  and  north  to  south  on  very  different  lines.  John 
had  been  negotiating  for  the  deal  for  sometime,  he  ad- 
mitted. It  was  the  only  way  he  could  save  himself. 
This  new  syndicate,  The  Golden  Rule  Tea  Store,  op- 
erated on  the  plan  that  if  they  sold  sugar  and  coffee  and 
tea  at  reduced  prices  and  of  inferior  quality  they  could 
sell  staples  and  canned  goods  at  advanced  prices  and  give 
those  abominable  prize  coupons  with  each  purchase,  en- 
abling the  owner  of  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  to  possess 
a  large  beflowered  lamp  or  a  cracker  jar  with  German- 
silver  handles. 

Plummer  &  Plummer  had  long  been  a  goal  in  their 
minds  —  the  syndicate  foresaw  its  ruin  in  the  present- 
day  system  of  commerce,  and  after  John  had  delayed 
several  weeks,  due  to  Sam  Hippler's  urging,  he  surren- 
dered unconditionally. 

John  received  a  lump  sum  for  his  stock  and  good  will ; 
this  went  to  pay  debts.  They  bought  the  warehouse  and 
were  to  remodel  it  rapidly  into  a  shiny  red-and-gold- 
fronted  place  with  a  few  bushels  of  dried  apricots  in  the 
window  and  a  sign:  "Win  ten  dollars!  Count  these 
and  guess  the  number !  "  They  would  sell  oleomarga- 
rine and  substitutes  for  coffee,  diluted  extracts,  all  man- 
ner of  semi-prepared  foods.  John  was  to  manage  the 
store  at  a  fair  salary. 

"  At  least  I'll  know  where  I'm  at,"  he  declared. 

162 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  felt  stunned.     "  And  Sam  Hippler?  " 

"  Sorry,  but  he's  out  of  it  —  a  tottering  old  chap,  not 
available  for  even  a  clerk.  You  know,  Densie,  a  man 
has  his  day,  and  that  is  all  there  is  to  it." 

"  I  can't  feel  right  about  it  —  Plummer  &  Plummer 
failed." 

"  Not  failed  —  sold  —  absorbed  —  by  this  Golden 
Rule  corporation.  I  shall  have  a  chance  to  buy  stock  in 
it  and  we  can  finally  get  ahead  of  the  game." 

"  I  suppose  it  had  to  come,"  she  admitted. 

"  I'm  going  on  the  road  to  study  the  other  stores  and 
buy  for  them  —  they  wanted  someone  with  experience. 
I  think  we've  hit  on  a  big  thing  and  I'm  going  to  give  up 
politics  and  clubs  and  devote  myself  to  the  syndicate." 

"  It  seems  too  bad,  doesn't  it?  " 

u  You  sentimental  goose !  "  John  was  in  high  spirits. 
He  came  over  to  kiss  her.  "  Now,  Densie,  have  all  the 
clubs  you  like,  and  new  clothes,  and  stop  worrying  about 
Sally  —  the  child  is  all  right.  Rex  isn't  a  half-bad  sort." 

"  John,  I  can't  help  but  worry  —  everyone  tells  me  it 
is  not  right.  As  her  father  you  ought  to  talk  to  him  — 
ask  him  his  intentions." 

John  frowned.  "  We  don't  do  that  sort  of  thing  now- 
adays —  and  Sally  seems  able  to  forge  for  herself. 
She's  so  pretty  no  one  can  resist  her.  Besides,"  he  added 
sincerely,  "  she  is  your  daughter  and  she  could  not  go  far 
wrong." 

Densie  blushed.  "  Thank  you,  dear,  but  I  want  to  see 
her  settled.  I'm  resigned  to  Harriet  —  I  dare  say  in 
modern  fashion  she  will  be  most  useful.  But  if  Sally 
does  not  decide  about  marriage  or  a  career  she  will  be 
marking  time." 

"  She  is  a  mere  infant.  Girls  stay  girls  nowadays  as 
long  as  they  like,"  John  protested. 

163 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  You  feel  I'm  too  narrow."  Densie  was  very  ear- 
nest. "  I  want  to  be  fair  —  but  I  would  have  been  glad 
to  have  Sally  and  Dean  tell  us  what  we  told  our  uncle 
and  aunt." 

"  Dean  is  a  good  lad,  but  Sally  was  never  meant  for  a 
poor  man's  wife !  " 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  Humberstone?  "  Den- 
sie was  loath  to  give  up  her  first  impressions. 

"  Everyone  speaks  well  of  him,"  was  all  John  could 
say.  "  I  suppose  we  shall  know  about  him  by  and  by." 

He  fell  to  talking  about  the  businesss  change  and  Sam 
Hippler's  little  tragedy  of  no  longer  being  useful. 

"  But  it's  the  new  order,"  he  told  Densie  that  night. 
They  seemed  to  grow  close  again  as  they  talked.  "  The 
new  era  —  you  called  it.  Come,  Densie,  let  us  hurry  and 
be  one  with  it."  He  spoke  lightly  but  he  meant  the 
words. 

Sam  Hippler  came  to  see  Densie  before  he  went  to  a 
great-niece  in  New  England  who  offered  him  a  home. 
He  was  far  from  penniless,  that  was  not  his  sorrow  —  it 
was  the  facts  that  he  was  out  of  the  running  and  that 
Plummer  &  Plummer  was  no  more. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  Densie  said  tenderly;  "  if  we  were  in 
the  old  home  you  should  never  go  away.  Uncle  Herbert 
and  Aunt  Sally  would  have  wanted  you  to  stay  with  us." 

"  Ah,  but  I'd  be  in  the  way."  He  blew  his  nose  forci- 
bly with  the  old-style  red-bordered  handkerchief.  "  John 
has  had  hard  work  to  put  up  with  me  for  years  —  I  can't 
change,  Densie;  I'm  too  old  to  learn  how  to  do  things 
the  new  way.  It  was  hard  on  John  too.  John  knows 
how  to  do  things  the  new  way." 

''Don't  you  approve  of  the  new  way?"  said  John's 
wife. 

'  Well,  this  eternal  efficiency  is  deadly  if  you  carry  it 

164 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

too  far.  It  destroys  spontaneity,"  the  old  man  said  with 
surprising  clearness  of  mind.  "  And  these  modern  chil- 
dren !  "  He  held  his  gnarled  old  hands  up  in  horror, 
an  antique  cameo  ring  almost  slipping  from  one  of  his 
fingers  he  had  grown  so  thin.  "  I  give  you  my  word  I 
can't  understand  things.  I  finish  reading  the  ads  in  a 
woman's  magazine  with  the  morals  of  a  bushman. 
Where's  the  old  Godey's  and  Harpers' —  wasn't  that 
enough  to  satisfy?  " 

"  They  don't  want  that  sort  of  thing  now,  Uncle  Sam." 

"  These  —  these  steel-colored  boots  and  dresses  with- 
out waists  —  bah,  I've  no  patience  with  the  young 
women !  And  the  young  men  —  weaklings !  "  He 
dropped  his  gray  head. 

;'  It  was  not  I  who  wanted  the  firm  to  go  under,"  Den- 
sie  said  presently. 

"  No;  you're  your  aunt  over  again.  It  was  never  you, 
but  John;  he  is  mad  with  the  spirit  of  the  age!  "  He 
glanced  up  at  Densie  between  his  shaggy  brows.  "  It's 
no  longer  — '  how  much  can  we  all  save,  but  how  much 
can  we  all  spend !  '  My  girl,  unless  you  catch  up  with 
him  —  your  heart  is  going  to  ache  !  " 

"  I  know,  Uncle  Sam  —  I'm  trying.  But  it  is  always 
household  cares  —  cares  —  cares  and  the  children.  And 
now  the  children  seem  farther  away  than  ever.  I  was 
trying  to  be  modern  when  I  left  the  Little  House  —  and 
it  has  only  resulted  in  my  being  old-fashioned  in  a  new- 
fashioned  setting,  which  is  worse  than  ever.  I'm  going 
to  try  again."  She  was  thinking  of  a  way  to  earn  some 
money,  a  drastic  way  that  would  bring  the  desired  result. 

"  After  you  catch  the  spirit  of  the  age,"  the  old  man 
dreamed,  "  you'll  long  for  the  past.  .  .  .  The  day  the 
firm  was  sold  was  your  uncle's  wedding  day.  I  remem- 
ber when  he  and  Sally  went  away  —  a  stagecoach  then, 

165 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  she  wore  a  pink  striped  silk  and  a  bonnet  with  white 
ties.  They  went  to  the  Orient  and  left  me  in  charge  — 
I  was  quite  modern  then !  The  day  they  came  home  — 
eight  months  later,  we  planted  a  rosebush  before  the  front 
door  of  The  Evergreens  —  for  good  fortune.  I  can  see 
Sally  now  as  she  scolded  me  for  bending  the  trowel " 

Densie  rose  abruptly.  Something  sobbed  way  inside 
of  her;  she  wanted  to  take  this  old  man  into  her  keeping 
and  reverence  him,  not  for  what  he  could  do  according  to 
modern  calculation,  but  for  what  he  had  done ! 

"  Do  you  remember  how  you  used  to  sit  on  your  uncle's 
lap  when  you  had  the  earache?  "  he  asked  with  a  childish 
veering  of  topics. 

"  And  how  John  used  to  skip  school  and  you  forged 
his  excuses?  " 

So  they  talked  half  the  afternoon  —  all  in  the  past 
tense  until  Kenneth  came  in  to  bring  them  into  the  pres- 
ent. 

Densie  gave  Sam  Hippler  his  choice  of  the  old  books 
and  pictures  and  an  armchair  Uncle  Herbert  had  par- 
ticularly named  as  his  own. 

"  My  room  at  Nancy's  will  seem  like  home,"  the  old 
chap  said  cheerfully.  "  I'm  robbing  you,  though." 

"  No,  no !  The  family  always  call  them  eyesores. 
Only  I  could  not  set  them  out  for  a  secondhand  man. 
Take  all  you  want  —  I  like  to  think  of  you  as  having 
them." 

When  the  family  discovered  what  she  had  done  they 
applauded  the  act  and  said  it  was  too  bad  she  had  not 
sold  off  everything  else  that  was  an  antique. 

The  parting  between  John  and  Sam  Hippler  was  a 
trifle  strained  for  the  former.  He  had  been  impatient 
with  the  old  man's  domineering  persistency  and  high 
ideals  for  a  long  time,  and  doubly  impatient  with  the 

166 


. 

A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

fact  that  he  had  to  take  the  trouble  and  time  to  deceive 
him  —  whereas  he,  proprietor,  should  have  merely  given 
orders  and  had  them  obeyed  without  questioning. 

"  Good-by,  my  boy.  You've  a  good  wife  —  that  is 
better  than  a  good  business,"  was  all  Sam  Hippler  said, 
to  his  relief. 

After  Sam  Hippler's  departure  John  prepared  for  his 
first  long  trip  on  the  road.  He  had  a  word  with  Sally 
to  ease  his  conscience  concerning  Rex  Humberstone,  but 
as  usual  Sally  ended  the  victor. 

"  Daddy,  how  can  you  say  I'm  flirting!  When  I  adore 
Rex  and  he  does  me  —  he  merely  wants  me  to  be  sure  of 
my  own  mind.  Besides,  look  at  the  money  I  earned  last 
month  —  you  can't  scold  me  —  you  with  a  brand-new 
business  and  the  prospect  of  being  dreadfully  rich." 

She  kissed  him  on  the  forehead  and  rumpled  up  his 
hair,  and  he  ended  weakly  by  promising  to  bring  her 
skates  from  New  York! 


167 


XVI 

It  was  after  Harriet  graduated  and  decided  to  live 
with  Leila  in  New  York,  Leila  being  a  minor  librarian 
somewhere  in  the  Harlem  district,  that  Densie  began  to 
earn  her  own  money. 

She  had  not  gone  to  see  her  daughter  graduate  because 
of  preparing  for  this  new  and  very  satisfying  interest. 
John  had  run  down,  combining  it  with  business  as  well, 
and  reported  that  there  had  been  no  exercises  to  speak  of 
and  that  Harriet  was  just  the  same,  a  trifle  more  reserved 
if  anything.  Everyone  spoke  of  her  in  the  highest  terms 
and  she  was  exceptionally  advanced  to  have  so  excellent 
an  appointment. 

The  chance  to  earn  the  money  had  come  to  Densie 
rather  unexpectedly.  One  of  the  clubs  of  which  she  had 
been  a  struggling  member  regretted  the  fact  that  no  wom- 
an's exchange  was  established  in  the  city,  that  if  there 
were  they  would  be  able  to  place  the  members'  handiwork 
for  sale  and  secure  funds  for  a  permanent  library  and 
other  things. 

It  gave  Densie  the  idea.  Why  not  start  a  woman's 
exchange?  Why  not  do  some  useful  thing?  If  she  was 
no  longer  essential  to  her  family  she  would  make  herself 
essential  to  something  —  the  maternal  in  her  demanded 
such  a  vent. 

She  did  not  confide  in  anyone,  but  went  quietly  to  work 
to  select  a  small  front-windowed  shop  in  a  fair  section 
of  the  city  and  figure  on  the  estimates  for  fitting  it  up 
correctly.  She  had  fair  He-"?  regarding  this  —  a  sooth- 

168 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ing  gray-green  effect.     She  put  a  gold-lettered  sign  in  the 
window:  Woman's  Exchange  Tea  Room. 

She  was  amazed  at  her  own  boldness.  Instinctively 
she  hesitated  before  she  plunged  any  further,  so  she  con- 
fessed to  Sally,  who  regarded  the  idea  as  utterly  impossi- 
ble. It  was  unlike  mummy  to  have  ideas  outside  of  her 
home. 

"How  can  you  run  an  exchange?"  she  demanded. 
"  You  don't  know  anything  about  business." 

"  Then  I  can  learn,"  her  mother  answered,  to  her 
amazement. 

'  It  does  not  look  very  well  for  father  to  have  you  with 
a  tea  room."  But  Sally  really  meant  Rex  Humberstone. 
She  dreaded  telling  him  —  he  was  so  extremely  aristo- 
cratic in  his  views. 

When  John  returned  from  his  trip  Densie's  little  ex- 
change had  made  its  initial  bow  to  the  world.  She  had  a 
few  wicker  tables  for  the  light  refreshments;  she  had 
hunted  out  some  faded  women  in  need  of  pin  money,  but 
trained  for  nothing  but  their  home,  and  engaged  them 
to  make  cakes  and  jams  and  sandwiches;  she  accepted 
crochet  work  from  the  inmates  of  the  wheel-chair  guilds 
and  old  people's  homes;  she  had  beautifully  knitted  af- 
ghans  and  sweaters  made  by  various  grandmas  and  great- 
grandmas  who  spent  most  of  their  time  in  their  rooms; 
she  had  slippers,  shoe  bags,  baby-carriage  sets,  perfumes 
and  sachets  —  all  manner  of  dainty  homemade  things. 
She  took  orders  for  cakes  and  preserves,  she  had  maple- 
sugar  patties  and  an  odd  sort  of  pottery.  It  was  really 
quite  a  little  shop. 

She  had  Sally's  hand-painted  favors  and  menu  cards 
in  the  front  case  and  told  her  to  make  Christmas  and 
Easter  greetings,  and  she  pressed  Kenneth  into  service 
as  an  errand  boy  and  sweeper  up. 

169 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Kenneth  enjoyed  the  exchange,  since  he  ate  up  all  the 
left-over  sandwiches  and  ice  creams  and  had  the  rare  joy 
of  being  with  his  mother  more  than  ever  before. 

Densie  secured  help  so  she  could  be  away  some  of  the 
time;  her  affiliations  with  her  clubs  were  to  help  her. 
Densie,  too,  was  learning  how  to  use  people  in  a  quiet, 
refined  way!  But  Densie  herself  remained  unchanged, 
in  a  demure  gray  dress  and  frilly  white  apron  and  her  hair 
combed  back  unfashionably,  no  hint  of  powder  on  her 
flushed  little  face. 

Sprays  of  artificial  wistaria  and  cherry  blossoms  deco- 
rated the  shop  and  a  gong  of  temple  bells  rang  as  one 
entered.  Handmade  toys  sat  in  a  row  as  the  receiving 
line  —  dolls  made  from  Turkish  towels  and  dogs  from 
stockings  and  funny  gray  kitties  cut  from  outing  flannel 
and  fantastically  cross-stitched. 

At  first  John  had  nothing  to  say  —  it  so  astonished  him 
that  Densie  would  dare  do  such  a  thing,  particularly  with- 
out consulting  him.  He  did  not  know  whether  or  not 
to  be  pleased.  It  evidently  meant  that  she  would  need 
less  of  his  money,  which  was  an  excellent  happening,  be- 
cause he  had  more  wildcat  schemes  to  make  money  from 
mines  or  fly-by-night  ventures.  It  did  not  look  quite 
well,  which  annoyed  him  —  and  yet  many  modern  women 
were  beginning  to  earn  money,  and  as  Densie  had  no  spe- 
cial talent  it  was  only  natural  that  she  turn  to  the  aiding 
and  abetting  of  other  people's  talents  —  homekeeper  to 
the  woman's  exchange  as  it  were. 

So  he  said,  "Well,  well,  I've  a  rival!  You  are  quite 
a  surprise  box.  How  long  has  this  been  back  in  your 
head?" 

"  For  months  I've  wanted  to  do  something  —  it 
seemed  to  me  we  had  nothing  that  took  up  our  time  to- 
gether as  we  used  to  have,  and  a  woman  grows  tired  of 

170 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

going  out  alone.  Sally  is  absorbed  with  Rex,  and  Ken- 
neth a  youngster.  I  thought  it  was  really  a  needed  thing 
and  that  it  was  a  duty  as  well  as  a  pleasure." 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"  Ever  so  much.  I  enjoy  meeting  the  different  people 
and  to  help  all  the  queer  old  dears  who  could  not  possi- 
bly earn  new  boots  unless  I  managed  to  sell  their  knick- 
knacks.  It  is  a  great  pleasure,  John." 

"  I  suppose  you'll  not  be  home  very  much,"  he  rumi- 
nated. Somehow  the  venture  in  other  lights  was  not  so 
favorable. 

'  Not  as  much,  of  course  —  I  leave  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, but  I  plan  to  have  the  girl  close  the  store  for  me.  I 
must  be  here  to  cook  dinner." 

"  Um  —  if  it's  too  much  for  you  let  me  know,"  he  said 
magnanimously,  nonplused  by  the  procedure,  and  the 
motive  behind  it! 

He  wondered  if  anyone  would  speak  to  him  about  it, 
ask  if  he  had  had  losses  and  say  it  was  too  bad  Mrs. 
Plummer  had  opened  an  exchange.  But  no  one  men- 
tioned it  —  what  people  thought  was  their  own  concern. 
The  exchange  flourished  surprisingly  well.  Partly  be- 
cause it  was  conscientiously  managed  and  partly  because 
Densie  unearthed  things  that  customers  said  they  were 
longing  and  looking  for  but  could  never  find. 

Women  exclaimed  with  tears  and  laughs  over  certain 
old  patterns  in  cross-stitch  and  crewelwork,  and  when 
Densie  had  fat  little  pots  of  rose-leaf  jam  for  sale  she 
could  not  supply  the  demand.  There  was  an  air  of  sin- 
cerity about  the  shop  —  everything  was  homemade  and 
no  pains  were  spared  to  keep  it  spotlessly  spick-and- 
span,  a  scent  of  lavender  and  lemon  verbena  pervading 
it. 

Densie  disposed  of  everything  quickly  except  Sally's 

171 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

hand-painted  trifles.  They  seemed  out  of  place  beside 
the  homey,  almost  wudgy  articles.  Her  tea  room  be- 
came a  rendezvous  for  shoppers.  Even  business  men 
dropped  in  for  an  "  honest-to-goodness  brownbread  sand- 
wich and  a  cup  of  real  coffee,"  and  Densie  found  after 
three  months  that  she  had  cleared  her  initial  expenses 
and  had  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  of  her  own  money 
—  her  own  money!  —  which  she  had  earned. 

It  seemed  to  her  on  the  day  she  counted  it  over  and 
realized  what  she  had  done  that  she  began  to  catch  up 
with  the  younger  generation.  She  advertised  the  shop 
and  invited  a  mail-order  business  for  a  few  odd  novelties. 
A  woman  in  Louisiana  asked  if  she  would  handle  paper- 
shelled  almonds,  which  she  did;  while  someone  else  sent 
praline  patties,  and  a  third,  from  Canada,  contributed 
birch-bark  baskets  and  sweetgrass  work.  Two  Califor- 
nia girls  ventured  to  send  her  Indian  dolls,  canoes  and 
abalone  jewelry. 

Densie  was  not  happy  except  as  she  made  herself  be 
happy  from  the  fact  of  success  with  its  inevitable  stimulus 
and  excitement  and  the  thought  that  she  was  essential 
once  more.  She  ceased  being  a  type  and  became  an  in- 
dividual. But  she  used  to  wish  for  the  old  days  when 
she  rose  to  start  the  fire  in  the  Little  House,  to  find  John 
had  started  it  and  put  the  kettle  on,  and  she  would  make 
hot  cakes  and  bring  out  maple  syrup  as  a  reward !  And 
there  had  been  more  reward  breakfasts  than  any  other 
kind  as  she  recalled  it.  She  liked  the  nice,  even,  middle- 
class  way  in  which  they  had  lived  and  mingled  with  their 
neighbors,  that  feeling  of  security  when  the  Baxters 
wanted  to  borrow  anything,  from  the  flatirons  to  the 
baby;  or  the  right  to  run  into  Grandma  McDermott's  on 
the  corner  when  anything  went  wrong  or  if  she  wanted  a 
new  pudding  recipe. 

172 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

John  used  to  know  his  men  neighbors  as  well;  they  used 
to  water  their  lawns  summer  evenings  while  the  children 
tumbled  about  and  the  women  called  to  each  other  from 
the  verandas  about  the  price  of  calico,  and  the  men 
would  compare  lawns  and  gardens,  confide  fishing  secrets 
and  exchange  opinions  on  the  topics  of  the  day.  And  it 
was  all  a  restful  sane  sort  of  existence.  But  this  was  no 
more.  The  flat  dwellers  tried  to  hoist  the  burden  of 
caring  for  lawns  on  each  other,  and  the  women  knew 
their  neighbors  only  to  gossip  about  them  and  nod  very 
formally.  The  other  scheme  of  life  where  irregularly 
planted  fragrant  gardens  and  real  dogs  and  old-time 
hired  girls  and  orthodox  churchgoing  and  Saturday  baths 
—  had  vanished. 

Densie  had  the  rarest  joy  in  the  world  when  she  came 
across  women  similarly  circumstanced  as  she  was  —  born 
at  the  closing  of  one  era  and  trying  desperately  to  under- 
stand and  heed  the  dictates  of  the  new.  She  used  to  buy 
their  work  and  encourage  them  to  join  clubs  and  to  relax 
in  matters  of  orthodox  religion  —  to  do  as  that  old  arti- 
cle had  told  her,  the  one  she  had  read  many  years  ago 
which  urged  the  middle-aged  American  woman  to  become 
acquainted  with  the  joy  of  living!  Densie,  too,  was  be- 
ginning to  say  with  her  daughters,  "  First  of  all  I  am  a 
human  being  and  must  live  my  own  life." 

She  found  it  impossible  to  tend  to  the  exchange  and 
her  clubs  and  her  flat.  Kenneth  was  with  her  much  of 
the  time,  but  to  provide  for  Sally  and  John  was  impossi- 
ble. So  she  hired  a  maid,  a  careless,  inefficient  Scandi- 
navian, who  did  as  she  liked  pretty  much,  and  occasion- 
ally took  week-ends  off  to  become  hilariously  intoxicated. 

"  It  is  the  best  I  can  do,"  Densie  told  John  when  he 
began  to  complain  about  the  food.  "  Either  I  must  stay 
at  home  or  else  I  must  have  help.  Sally  will  not  do  the 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

work  —  she  ought  to,  because  she  does  nothing  else  — 
but  she  won't.  Perhaps  you  can  talk  to  her  —  I  have 
tried  and  despaired." 

"  We  want  to  know,  your  mother  and  I,"  said  John, 
accosting  Sally  a  few  days  later,  "  whether  you  are  going 
to  marry  Humberstone  or  do  your  part  here  as  you 
should?  Your  mother  cannot  sacrifice  a  good  business 
and  you  don't  seem  inclined  to  help.  It  is  time  he  spoke 
about  his  intentions." 

Sally,  quite  as  beautiful  as  before,  but  older  and  more 
cynical  of  expression,  thrummed  idly  at  the  bass  notes 
of  the  old  piano.  "  Well,  father,  I  claim  the  same  rights 
as  Harriet.  You  never  ask  her  things." 

"  Because  she  does  them.     You  don't." 

Sally  pouted.  "  Why  do  you  think  Rex  is  or  is  not 
going  to  marry  me?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  a  year  or  so  ago  I  thought  he  would 
marry  you  as  fast  as  you  would  have  him,  but  he  is  tak- 
ing his  time  about  it.  Men  didn't  in  my  day;  they  never 
4  waited  '  on  a  young  woman  unless  they  had  declared 
themselves." 

John  began  to  feel  abused  —  after  all  it  was  not  his 
place  to  be  staying  home  in  the  morning  to  lecture  his 
daughter  and  try  to  regulate  the  household.  It  was 
Densie's  —  and  he  had  an  aversion  to  going  into  her 
exchange  for  luncheon  because  of  being  called  "  only  her 
husband!" 

Densie  was  quite  a  stranger  to  him  except  for  the  brief 
time  in  the  evening.  But  he  noticed  she  seemed  happier 
and  more  enthusiastic  about  things  generally,  and  when 
he  had  asked  almost  shyly  what  she  intended  doing  with 
her  profit,  she  said  she  was  going  to  bank  it  and  not  risk 
speculation.  John  disapproved  of  this;  he  felt  no  money 
should  lie  idle  in  a  bank.  Uncle  Herbert's  dreaminess 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

had  resolved  itself  into  a  desire  to  gamble  in  John's  dis- 
position. 

"  I  can't  walk  up  to  Rex  Humberstone  and  ask  him  if 
he  is  going  to  marry  me,"  Sally  said  angrily.  "  I'm  tired 
of  everyone  —  I  wish  I  were  in  New  York  with  Harriet." 
She  put  her  head  down  and  began  to  cry. 

John  stood  back  utterly  nonplused.  "  I  say,  Sally, 
don't  be  a  goose  —  what's  the  matter  anyway?  " 

He  stared  about  the  living  room  in  dismay;  there  was 
dust  on  every  article  of  furniture,  and  the  things  did  not 
fit  into  the  room,  the  new-fashioned  things  were  too  ex- 
pensive and  the  old-fashioned  ones  too  laughable.  The 
dining  room  was  disorderly  and  the  breakfast  dishes  still 
about. 

He  thought  of  the  contrast  with  Densie's  exchange, 
spick-and-span,  with  Densie  in  her  Quakerish  costume 
moving  deftly  about,  knowing  just  where  to  put  this  or 
how  to  fix  that  and  where  to  put  a  stitch  in  an  article  to 
safeguard  its  durability,  and  that  a  fat  bow  of  ribbon 
about  the  bunny's  neck  would  make  him  twice  as  attract- 
ive !  He  felt  neglected  as  he  glanced  over  at  himself 
in  the  mantel. 

'  What  a  funny  fellow  I  am,"  he  murmured  half  out 
loud.  "  I  feel  like  twenty-five  and  I'm  nearly  forty-five. 
I  don't  want  Densie  in  her  shop,  and  I'm  dashed  if  she 
didn't  make  me  nervous  when  she  stayed  home  to  drudge 

—  I  don't  believe  I  was  meant  to  be  head  of  a  family." 
Curiously   he    almost   envied    Rex    Humberstone    and 

Harriet,  two  of  the  freest  individuals  he  knew. 

Sally  stopped  crying  and  raised  her  head  to  catch  her 
father's  expression. 

"  I'll  go  away  if  you  like,  but  I  won't  stay  home  and 
do  housework.  Mother  could  sell  my  things  if  she  tried 

—  other  things  have  sold." 

175 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

And  she  began  wondering  why  there  were  no  more  or- 
ders from  the  mysterious  Mrs.  Hester  Smith.  "  Mother 
ought  to  stay  home  —  she  has  had  her  day." 

John  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Squabble  all  you  like, 
my  dears.  I  declare  myself  out  of  it." 

And  putting  on  his  hat  he  made  for  downtown.  Be- 
fore he  reached  his  store  he  saw  Kenneth  loaded  with 
boxes,  all  labeled  Woman's  Exchange  and  Tea  Room, 
Mrs.  Densie  Plummer,  Proprietor.  Kenneth  was  very 
dignified  and  filled  with  his  own  importance. 

"  Where  are  you  off  to?  "  John  halted  him  with  a  flour- 
ishing salute. 

"  Mother's  got  a  lot  of  orders.  Somebody's  getting 
married,  and  there  is  a  new  baby  at  Alice  Palmer's. 
Gee,  you  ought  to  see  the  pink  bows !  And  there  is  a 
party  cake  for  somebody  else." 

Kenneth  was  happy.  Densie  paid  him  a  percentage 
of  each  article's  value  which  he  delivered.  He  too  was 
saving  his  pennies. 

'When  is  mother  coming  home?"  John  asked,  sur- 
prised to  find  himself  more  and  more  indignant  at  being 
neglected. 

"  Oh,  she's  going  to  a  banquet  to-night  —  a  club  ban- 
quet; and  I'm  going  to  eat  up  all  the  things  at  the  tea 
room  and  she'll  call  for  me  at  half-past  nine." 

"  I  don't  want  you  hanging  round  the  store  until  then. 
You  come  home  and  eat  your  supper."  John  was 
ashamed  of  himself  as  he  spoke. 

'There  won't  be  any  supper,  will  there?  Sally's 
never  home."  Kenneth  was  gaining  in  independence. 
"  Anyway,  I'll  do  what  mummy  said." 

Which  ended  the  argument. 

Aghast  even  at  Kenneth,  John  let  him  pass  on. 

176 


XVII 

On  the  night  of  Mrs.  Plummer's  club  banquet  John 
went  home  for  supper,  partly  because  he  really  enjoyed 
being  a  martyr,  as  he  had  once  accused  Densie  of  being, 
for  he  knew  there  would  be  none.  He  waited  patiently 
while  the  Scandinavian  handmaiden  laid  some  weird  con- 
coction at  his  plate. 

Miss  Sally  was  out  with  her  friend,  he  was  told  upon 
inquiry.  And  gulping  down  boiled  green  tea  and  a  little 
dish  of  sauce  John  rummaged  in  the  living  room  to  find 
something  to  read,  something  to  make  him  forget  every- 
thing—  Sally  and  her  mysterious  Rex,  the  shop,  Ken- 
neth, Harriet,  and  the  Golden  Rule  Syndicate,  whose 
methods  jarred  and  irritated  him,  though  he  felt  he  must 
stay  at  the  post  now  that  the  die  was  cast. 

Densie  came  home  with  Kenneth  in  a  cab  —  another 
step  in  advance.  She  wore  a  gray  silk  dress  and  real 
violets,  and  she  looked  quite  pretty  as  she  stood  pulling 
off  her  gloves  and  saying:  "Well,  John,  did  you  get 
enough  to  eat?  Kenneth  gorged  on  chocolate  cake  and 
mayonnaise  and  I  must  not  let  it  happen  again.  Do  you 
remember  the  time  you  were  '  dying  '  in  the  woodshed 
and  we  interrupted  Aunt  Sally's  whist  club?  " 

'  Yes,  I  remember;  and  those  were  pretty  good  times 
too.''  He  was  a  bit  sulky,  for  he  was  mentally  adding, 
"  Aunt  Sally  had  no  shop." 

'  We  had  a  pleasant  time  to-night."  She  tossed  him  a 
program.  "  I  heard  nice  things  said  about  the  ex- 
change." 

177 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Do  you  think  you  ought  to  keep  it?  "  He  did  not 
glance  at  the  program.  "  Don't  I  provide  for  you?  " 

"With  food  and  fuel  and  a  roof  —  yes."  She  had 
prepared  for  this  moment  long  ago.  "  But  your  life  lies 
away  from  mine,  and  so  of  necessity  mine  must  lie  away 
from  yours  or  else  I  should  become  a  burden.  I  am 
necessary  only  to  my  boy,  and  I  have  him  with  me.  I 
don't  mean,  my  dear,  that  you  have  stopped  caring,"  she 
added  impulsively,  "  only  that  you  care  in  a  modern  fash- 
ion. That  is  the  best  way  to  express  it.  I  know  you 
wonder  why  I  fuss  and  work  so  hard  in  the  shop  —  it  is 
because  someone  appreciates  it.  I've  been  so  weary  of 
having  meal  after  meal  stand  untouched  or  tasted  —  or 
hastily  gobbled  without  comment.  So  tired  of  staying 
home  night  after  night,  and  when  you  returned  of  not 
daring  to  ask  you  questions.  Isn't  it  strange,  John,  how 
we  are  always  courteous  to  the  passer-by  and  rude  to  the 
ones  of  our  household?  If  the  children  wanted  me  here 
—  to  keep  the  home  as  I  was  taught,  I  should  never  have 
looked  further.  But  I  never  really  pleased  you  —  so  I 
set  to  work  to  please  someone  else.  Not  a  bad  arrange- 
ment, is  it?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  you  did  not  please  us,"  he  retorted. 

"  Ah,  but  you  acted  it." 

She  left  him  abruptly,  without  their  customary  good- 
night kiss. 

Meanwhile  Sally  and  Rex  had  come  to  a  distinct  rift 
in  their  affair.  Sally  was  beginning  to  understand  the 
awful  terror  of  doubts  —  for  the  first  time  in  the  two 
years  of  knowing  Rex  she  was  learning  that  it  was  selfish- 
ness which  made  him  anxious  to  have  her  happy,  it  dis- 
turbed him  if  she  was  not  in  high  feather  and  he  there- 
fore saw  to  it  that  she  was. 

She  was  beginning  to  see,  dimly  as  yet,  the  truth  of  the 

178 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

prophecy,  "  a  time  waster  " —  and  when  she  met  Dean 
Laddbarry  and  he  begged  to  come  to  see  her  or  go  with 
him  to  some  jolly  informal  place,  she  refused  from  a  stub- 
born sense  of  pride.  The  glitter  and  sparkle  of  hotels 
and  expensive  restaurants,  motors,  roadside  inns,  theater 
after  theater  and  dances  palled  on  her.  She  felt  as  if 
she  had  long  had  a  diet  of  bonbons  and  cream  puffs  and 
wished  for  some  sweet  crust  of  bread. 

Sally  was  only  surface  shallow;  underneath  was  of  the 
same  quality  and  loyalty  of  heart  as  Densie.  But  Rex 
saw  only  this  shallowness,  or  rather  he  preferred  to  see 
no  further.  By  staying  light-hearted  and  frivolous  one 
remained  young,  he  had  made  himself  believe.  Besides, 
if  he  ever  went  to  imagining  the  past  in  all  its  realities 
he  would  become  a  wreck,  so  he  trespassed  on  only  the 
lightest  layers  of  his  scarred  self  and  influenced  Sally  to 
do  likewise. 

Sometimes  Sally  became  a  bit  of  a  bore;  her  extreme 
youth,  which  was  her  great  asset,  was  also  tactless  and 
too  frank.  Her  moods  were  like  an  April  day,  and  even 
though  she  cried  prettily  and  did  not  sniffle  he  felt  as  if 
he  had  undertaken  the  direction  of  a  day  nursery  rather 
than  a  stimulating  young  fay ! 

At  first  Densie  had  protested  against  his  beautiful  gifts 
to  Sally,  but  it  did  no  good.  So  she  bided  her  time  and 
said  nothing.  Indeed  she  rarely  saw  the  man  unless  for 
a  curt  good  evening;  he  regarded  her  as  someone  with 
impossible  ideas  and  manners  and  treated  her  accord- 
ingly. Rex  despised  manual  work  of  any  sort;  it  was 
he  who  had  made  Sally  lazy;  originally  Sally  was  not  at 
fault,  but  Rex  knew  how  to  ridicule  in  a  peculiar  stinging 
fashion  whenever  she  suggested  that  she  really  work,  and 
when  she  told  him  of  some  very  idle,  useless  day  spent  in 
prinking  or  buying  nonsense  or  reading  an  entertaining 

179 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

story  which  she  would  retell  to  him,  he  would  always  give 
her  the  impression  that  she  was  the  very  acme  of  common 
sense,  and  gradually  this  latter  way  of  spending  her 
days  became  a  fixed  habit. 

But  the  greatest  harm  Rex  had  done  Sally  was  to  teach 
her  to  be  untruthful !  It  often  so  happens.  He  had 
caused  her  to  magnify  her  wrongs  and  her  abilities  un- 
consciously. His  life,  highly  colored  from  fast  living, 
made  her  own  seem  drab  and  colorless.  To  keep  his  in- 
terest top  hole,  as  well  as  to  satisfy  her  romantic  little 
self,  Sally  began  to  magnify  certain  happenings.  Dean 
became  a  jealous  monster  who  had  almost  kidnapped  her, 
and  other  young  men  whom  she  casually  met  and  enjoyed 
herself  with  for  an  evening  suddenly  assumed  the  pro- 
portions of  terrifying  and  frantic  rivals  who  badgered 
her  with  mysterious  letters  and  telephones,  and  sent  her 
expensive  presents  which  she  promptly  returned. 

Sally  knew  this  was  wrong,  but  no  one  but  herself  was 
held  accountable  for  it,  she  argued,  and  it  amused  Rex! 
She  loved  this  older  man  with  a  terrible  sort  of  infatua- 
tion. He  could  not  do  wrong.  He  was  absolute  in  all 
he  said  or  told  her  to  say  or  do.  There  was  no  one  else 
in  the  world  but  Rex  Humberstone.  She  used  to  lie 
awake  consumed  with  jealousy  because  of  other  women 
he  had  casually  mentipned  as  having  been  in  his  life,  and 
terrifying  doubts  as  to  her  ability  to  hold  him.  Very 
skillfully  had  Rex  made  the  shadow  seem  the  substance! 

This  was  the  main  reason  why  Sally  deliberately  fabri- 
cated about  her  charms  —  a  strained  ruse  and  eventually 
a  useless  one;  but  all  women  try  it  at  some  time  or 
other  in  some  way.  Little  Sally,  who  had  never  had  so 
much  as  a  proposal  from  anyone  save  Dean  —  and  then 
in  boy-and-girl  fashion  —  began  to  invent  romances  con- 
cerning herself,  to  pretend  to  be  almost  swayed  toward 

180 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

this  onej  and  that  one,  and  would  end  by  graciously  tell- 
ing Rex  she  really  liked  him  best  of  all!  Rex  saw 
through  the  game,  but  it  amused  him  and  told  him  how 
much  the  girl  had  come  to  care  for  him,  so  he  listened 
politely  and  let  her  believe  he  trembled  lest  she  turn  from 
him  to  accept  one  of  these  out-of-town  Chesterfields  who 
seemed  to  spend  their  days  and  nights  writing  Sally  Plum- 
mer  threatening  love  letters  and  tragic  appeals. 

Nor  was  this  untruth  confined  to  the  romantic  side 
alone,  it  crept  like  an  ugly  little  thread  into  the  beautiful 
pattern  of  Sally's  soul  and  showed  unexpectedly  in  all 
she  did.  Sally  could  not  be  accurate  about  anything,  she 
was  not  truthful  with  herself,  she  could  not  look  things 
in  the  face  and  acknowledge  facts.  She  rouged  and 
used  an  eyebrow  pencil  and  let  Rex  buy  her  a  handsome 
fur  coat,  which  she  told  her  mother  glibly  she  had 
earned.  Densie  knew  it  was  not  true,  but  she  could 
not  have  made  Sally  give  it  back  —  so  she  let  it  pass  as 
if  she  credited  the  story. 

Her  boy-and-girl  friends  dropped  away.  Sally  was 
never  home,  Mrs.  Plummer  was  never  home,  and  besides, 
Sally  knew  that  funny  man,  lots  older — "he  takes  her 
to  hotels  like  an  actress  " —  and  that  funny  man  would 
never  have  gone  for  a  hayrack  ride  or  a  simple  dance  or 
a  ghost  party.  They  knew  better  than  to  ask  him,  so 
Sally  went  no  place  except  with  that  funny  man,  and  Dean 
concluded  that  she  really  was  engaged  and  let  the  matter 
rest. 

Several  months  after  Densie's  shop  was  acknowledged 
to  be  successful  Sally  had  her  first  quarrel  with  Rex,  in 
which  she  lost  far  more  than  the  issue  involved.  It  was 
Thanksgiving  week  and  Densie  was  unusually  rushed 
with  orders  for  homemade  pumpkin  pies.  She  and  Ken- 
neth scarcely  came  home  at  all.  John  wandered  between 

181 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  club  and  the  house  in  an  undignified  state  of  mind, 
and  Sally,  who  was  supposed  to  be  housekeeper,  let  the 
Scandinavian  handmaiden  have  her  own  way  while  she 
finished  a  turquoise  satin  dancing  frock  and  a  black  velvet 
cape  which  had  ermine  for  a  collar.  She  was  going  with 
Rex  to  a  fashionable  concert  and  supper  party  afterward, 
and  she  wanted  to  look  unusually  enticing.  She  was  con- 
cocting another  dream  romance  to  make  him  more  than 
ardent  and  was  just  completing  the  details  to  her  satisfac- 
tion when  the  bell  rang  and  she  answered  it,  to  find  him, 
to  her  great  surprise,  standing  there  dressed  in  his  usual 
exquisite  fashion. 

Sally  crimsoned  with  mortification.  She  wore  a  pink 
lawn  dress,  pretty  enough  in  its  way  but  a  trifle  rumpled, 
and  her  hair  was  carelessly  tossed  on  top  of  her  head. 
Rex  had  never  seen  her  this  way;  she  would  have  given 
worlds  to  have  not  had  it  come  about. 

'  What  brings  you  here?  "  she  began  gayly,  attempting 
to  carry  off  the  situation.  "  I'm  just  finishing  my  frock 
—  want  to  see  it?  Everything  is  very  dusty,  I'm  afraid. 
You  don't  mind,  do  you?  You  see,  mummy  is  rushed  to 
death  and  I'd  rather  sew  than  sweep.  Sit  down  here." 
She  was  quite  ill  at  ease. 

Somehow  the  moment  Rex  entered  her  home  the  place 
became  dwarfed  and  shabby  in  appearance;  he  had  that 
power  of  making  Sally  see  it  through  his  eyes. 

"  I  just  ran  up  to  beg  someone's  pardon."  He 
dropped  a  corsage  of  violets  in  her  lap.  "  Sally,  I'm  go- 
ing away  over  Thanksgiving  —  a  business  deal  in  New 
York;  and  so  we'll  have  to  postpone  our  engagement. 
We'll  have  'a  carnival  to  make  up  for  it  as  soon  as  I'm 
back." 

Sally's  lips  quivered.  "  I  won't  have  any  Thanksgiv- 
ing without  you,"  she  said  slowly.  A  ponderous  family 

182 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

dinner  would  be  a  bore,  and  she  would  have  no  excuse  to 
go  away.  Densie  had  said  she  would  have  Maude  Hat- 
ton  and  Lucy  Parks  over  and  that  she  was  going  to 
cook  the  turkey  her  own  self. 

"  I  know,  my  dear,  but  if  it  is  business " 

Sally  began  to  cry. 

"  Come,  come,  don't  be  childish !  "  he  urged,  at  a  loss 
for  words.  "  I've  not  been  out  of  town  since  we  first 
knew  each  other.  I  should  think  you  would  be  tired  of 
me." 

Her  temper  rose  to  the  surface.  "  I  want  to  know 
what  you  are  going  to  do  about  me,"  she  cried;  "  we've 
known  each  other  quite  long  enough,  haven't  we?  " 

"Do  about  you?"  The  mocking  eyes  seemed  to 
dance,  the  mouth  took  on  an  ugly  twist. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean  —  what  are  you  going  to  — 
to- 

"  Well  ?  "     He  was  not  going  to  help  her. 

"  Oh,  Rex,  don't  make  it  so  hard.  Everyone  is  be- 
ginning to  wonder  about  it,  we've  known  each  other  so 
long,  and " 

It  was  difficult  for  Sally,  and  yet  her5  childish  jealous 
heart  seemed  stabbed  at  the  mere  thought  of  his  leaving 
town  for  the  holiday  on  which  she  had  set  such  store  for 
weeks. 

"  Say  it  all,  Sally,  and  don't  be  too  long  about  it.  I 
haven't  time  to  waste  on  weeps " 

"  Are  you  going  to  marry  me?  "  Sally's  eyes  flashed 
with  a  spark  of  her  great-aunt's  determined  spirit. 

'  What  an  idea !  Must  I  ask  you  that,  Sally,  in  order 
to  know  you  at  all?  " 

"  Girls  are  not  supposed  to  know  men  so  much  older 
than  themselves  unless  they  are  engaged,"  Sally  answered 
weakly.  She  wished  for  her  mother  very  much. 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  In  this  day  and  age  we  don't  have  to  be  engaged  to 
every  woman  we  know,  do  we?  " 

He  came  to  sit  on  the  arm  of  her  chair.  Sally  noticed 
how  many  small  lines  were  in  his  face.  The  afternoon 
sunlight  was  quite  merciless.  She  began  to  feel  ashamed 
and  bewildered. 

"  Where  is  the  harm,"  he  was  saying,  "  of  being  pals 

—  comrades?     Come,   Sally,  I  know  how  deadly  mar- 
riage  is.     Take  your  own   home   for   example  —  have 
your  parents  kept  their  romance?     You  have  told  me  not 
yourself.     Look  about  you  —  what  married  people  have  ? 
I  could  never  see  marriage  as  the  goal  for  happiness! 
Besides,  you  are  only  a  child " 

Tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks.  "  Ah,  but  I  love  you," 
she  said  simply. 

He  looked  at  her  critically.  She  was  so  young  and 
lovely  —  and  it  would  be  rather  strenuous  to  have  to  find 
someone  else  equally  young  and  lovely  who  would  please 
and  adore  him  as  Sally  did. 

"  Listen,  my  child  " —  he  stroked  her  hand  gently  — 
"  you  are  too  young  to  marry.  To-day  women  marry  at 
thirty-five  far  more  than  at  twenty.  And  a  jolly  good 
thing  too.  You  don't  know  whether  you  would  want  to 
marry  me  —  you  can't  be  sure  yet.  You've  ability  in 
many  lines,  and  I  would  not  feel  right  to  gobble  you  up 
without  your  first  having  a  chance  to  mature  properly." 

"  I'd  rather  belong  to  you,"  said  Sally  miserably. 
Once  in  the  situation  she  was  determined  to  see  it  through. 

"  I'd  be  proud  and  happy  to  have  you,  but  I'm  not  a 
domestic  sort,"  he  assured  her.  "  I  love  you,  Sally. 
There  —  stop  crying!  You're  a  darling  infant  and  I 
want  you  for  my  pal  as  long  as  you  want  me.  But  I  don't 

—  flatter  myself,"  he  added  cleverly,  "  that  I  could  hope 

184 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

really  to  win  you.  Just  let  me  stay  pal  as  long  as  there  is 
no  one  else,  will  you,  dear?  " 

She  kept  on  sobbing.  Then  Rex  bent  and  kissed  her. 
He  had  never  taken  liberties  with  Sally  before.  His  at- 
titude toward  the  girl  was  a  cold-blooded  one  of  personal 
delight  in  her  society.  Besides,  no  one  else  would  believe 
in  him  as  Sally  did  —  he  had  not  the  same  influence  over 
older,  more  sophisticated  women. 

She  sprang  up. 

"  You  must  not  kiss  me  unless  we  are  to  be  married, 
please  —  please."  She  went  to  the  mantel  and  put  her 
head  down  as  she  cried. 

Rex  frowned.  "  I've  pulled  a  hornets'  nest  about  my 
ears,"  he  said  half  jokingly.  ("  Come,  Sally,  don't  cry! 
Buck  up  and  have  a  good  time  Thanksgiving.  Give  an 
absent  chap  a  thought  —  there's  the  girl.  I  love  you  for 
my  pal  and  I  will  never  have  another." 

"  But  it  isn't  right;  I  want  to  be  right  or  not  at  all." 
She  began  to  be  hysterical. 

"  It  is  a  man's  place  to  ask  a  woman  if  he  wishes  her  to 
share  his  name,"  Rex  said  rather  sardonically.  "  Don't 
lose  your  dignity;  for  so  young  a  girl  it  was  one  of  your 
chief  charms." 

She  stood  facing  him,  flushed  and  unlovely.  "  I  will 
not  be  your  pal,  Rex,  I  love  you  too  much  —  it  will  have 
to  be  a  proper  engagement  or  we  cannot  know  each 
other." 

"  Then  it  is  my  dismissal?  "  His  copper-colored  face 
was  a  trifle  more  copper-colored,  the  nearest  he  ever  came 
to  a  blush. 

Sally  hesitated.  If  he  went  away  angry  at  her,  never 
to  see  her  again,  the  joy  of  existence  would  be  gone;  it 
would  no  longer  be  fun  just  to  be  alive  and  see  what  would 

185 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

happen  next!  She  could  not  bear  it.  He  had  so  mes- 
merized her,  distorted  her  viewpoint  and  given  her  a 
false  standard  of  values  that  she  would  be  unable  to  find 
the  way  back  alone.  She  could  not  bear  the  thought; 
unconsciously  she  held  out  her  hands  to  him. 

"  No  —  no,"  was  all  she  said,  drawing  in  her  breath 
like  a  frightened  child. 

An  ugly  expression  had  crossed  the  copper-colored  face. 
'  You've  no  claim  on  me,  Sally,"  he  said  a  trifle  roughly. 
"  A  man  cannot  be  humbugged  into  marrying  anyone." 

She  beat  the  palms  of  her  hands  together  sharply. 
"Is  that  the  way  you  think  of  me  —  humbugging  you? 
Rex,  Rex!" 

"  No,  but  you  don't  seem  to  understand  the  way  of  the 
world.  It  is  not  the  way  of  your  father  and  mother, 
thank  fortune,  but  the  modern,  independent  way,  that 
gives  the  individual  time  and  circumstance  to  his  own  lik- 
ing. If  you  insist  on  my  engaging  myself  to  you,  Sally 
—  well,  I  can  do  only  one  thing  —  tell  you  I  am  sorry  to 
lose  a  splendid  comrade.  But  marriage  and  domesticity 
are  impossible  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

Sally  walked  up  close  to  him,  her  soft  red-gold  hair 
standing  out  like  a  halo  with  the  afternoon  sunlight  on 
it.  "  If  you  love  someone,  you  want  to  belong  to  them; 
but  if  you  do  not  want  me  there  is  nothing  more  to  say. 
You  see,  I  thought  all  along  that  you  did;  you  used  to 
joke  about  it  and  say  things  —  things  like  Dean  said,  only 
in  a  nicer  way;  and  I  know  Dean  meant  them." 

Rex  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  impatience.  He  was 
getting  into  reality,  a  thing  he  pledged  himself  never  to 
do. 

'  Think  it  over,  Sally,  and  when  I  come  back  tell  me  if 
you  want  to  be  my  pal.  I'll  never  have  another  one. 
Some  day,  perhaps,  I  might  come  to  feel  different,  but  for 

.186 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

now  —  I'm  honest,  and  you  know  that  is  always  best." 
His  eyes  fairly  danced  as  he  said  this  last. 

"  Are  you  going  away  —  right  away?  " 

"  To-night."     He  picked  up  his  coat. 

Sally  bit  her  under  lip.     "  Very  well,"  she  said  dully. 

She  felt  humiliated.  She  had  asked  someone  to  marry 
her !  Modern  though  it  was  it  made  her  ashamed  and 
she  did  not  want  to  look  at  Rex  again. 

"  Good-by,  little  girl."     He  held  out  his  hand. 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "  I  must  think  about  it,"  was 
all  she  would  let  herself  say.  An  amused  look  showed  in 
the  dancing  eyes,  but  he  outwardly  accepted  his  dismis- 
sal as  if  it  were  from  his  monarch. 

After  he  left  she  threw  herself  across  her  bed  and 
sobbed,  the  despairing  sobs  of  a  woman  —  but  no  one  but 
the  Scandinavian  handmaiden  knew  anything  about  it  1 


187 


XVIII 

Thanksgiving  was  a  wretched  affair  all  the  way 
through.  Sally  was  lackluster  and  wan,  scarcely  notic- 
ing anyone  or  answering  questions  save  by  a  monosylla- 
ble, eating  but  little  and  moping  most  of  the  time  in  her 
room. 

Densie  knew  there  had  been  some  quarrel  with  Rex 
since  nothing  else  would  have  seriously  disturbed  Sally. 
She  hoped  it  might  be  a  permanent  disagreement  and  set 
to  work  to  clean  the  flat  thoroughly  and  cook  the  very 
best  dinner  of  which  she  was  capable. 

Harriet  came  from  New  York  as  a  surprise  —  she  felt 
it  her  duty  —  and  made  the  family  circle  complete. 
Lucy  Parks  and  Maude  Hatton  dressed  in  their  rusty 
best  tottered  in  early  in  the  afternoon  to  hear  all  about 
New  York  —  to  Harriet's  horror.  Harriet  had  im- 
proved rather  than  not;  the  period  since  she  had  last 
been  at  home  had  been  a  successful  and  happy  one  ac- 
cording to  her  views,  and  she  had  gained  in  tolerance 
and  poise  from  contact  with  different  and  invigorating 
minds.  But  she  was  even  more  self-centered  than 
formerly,  and  was  imbued  with  a  quiet  egotism 
not  apparent  to  a  casual  observer.  She  wore 
extreme  mannish  tailored  suits  and  beautifully  made 
waists  to  go  with  them;  her  hair  was  allowed  to 
grow  again  and  rather  prettily  tucked  into  a  knot 
low  on  her  neck.  Densie  rejoiced  to  see  the  evidences 
of  femininity  make  their  appearance.  Harriet  had  no 
value  of  money,  though  she  could  tabulate  sums  for  dis- 

188 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

tributing  among  the  poor  and  her  chart  had  been  used 
to  relieve  earthquake  sufferers,  thereby  winning  her  no 
small  praise. 

She  brought  everyone  a  handsome  present  —  things 
of  no  practical  use  but  in  excellent  taste.  Sally's  was  a 
quaint  sandalwood  box  with  a  key  of  hammered  silver, 
Kenneth's  a  set  of  Chinese  stories.  Her  father  was  pre- 
sented with  an  impossible  but  artistic  shaving  mirror,  and 
Densie  found  some  sort  of  rare  green-china  plates 
marked  with  her  monogram.  Harriet  told  her  she  in- 
tended to  give  her  the  entire  set  by  degrees. 

"  It  is  the  best  way,  mummy,"  she  said  gently,  "  when 
one  has  nothing  in  the  way  of  good  china  to  get  a  little 
each  time  and  have  it  of  the  best." 

Densie  meekly  accepted  the  gift.  She  was  pleased 
with  Harriet's  change  in  manner  and  appearance  — 
though  she  maintained  a  formal  politeness  indicative  that 
she  considered  herself  a  guest,  first  and  last,  and 
would  conduct  herself  accordingly. 

The  difference  between  the  two  girls  was  an  interesting 
one  upon  which  to  reflect.  Sally  stayed  at  home  and 
made,  according  to  herself,  the  greater  sacrifice.  But  in 
a  thousand  and  one  small  ways  she  was  unbearably  trying 
and  nerve-racking.  Nevertheless,  Sally  stayed  at  home. 
Harriet  had  refused  to  stay  home  —  but  once  away  she 
was  graciousness  itself  in  her  small  pleasing  attentions. 
Densie  wondered  which  she  preferred ;  she  could  not  have 
honestly  told  herself. 

As  for  Sally's  moping  over  her  quarrel  with  Rex,  Har- 
riet took  a  "  polite  "  view  of  the  matter.  She  ignored 
it;  and  generously  praised  Sally's  little  daubs  of  paint- 
ings and  said  she  must  visit  New  York  and  see  the  galler- 
ies. Sally  responded  to  the  politeness;  she,  too,  became 
a  polite  artificial  manikin.  Every  one  kept  "  bucked 

189 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

up,"  as  Kenneth  said,  in  front  of  Harriet  —  she  had  a 
way  with  her,  there  was  no  denying.  One  could  not  go 
into  hysterics  before  her  or  lose  one's  temper  without  a 
great  deal  of  provocation. 

"  The  Woman's  Exchange  is  very  nice,  mummy,"  she 
told  her  mother.  "  Of  course,  I  don't  particularly  care 
for  that  sort  of  thing  —  hammered  brass  stores  and  Jap- 
anese print  and  old  book  shops  are  more  to  my  liking. 
But  I  can  see  that  you  have  made  use  of  being  so  old- 
fashioned." 

"  Sometimes  I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  go  back  to  staying 
at  home  —  but  it  did  not  seem  as  if  it  mattered,  and  your 
father  has  had  such  a  hard  time  of  it." 

"  I  shall  add  my  bit  presently,"  Harriet  offered. 
"Oh,  yes;  I  can  afford  to."  She  relinquished  the  last 
hope  of  possessing  a  real  Japanese  print,  which  she  had 
adored  from  without  the  showcase  for  many  moons.  '*  It 
makes  me  feel  better  if  I  do.  You  can  give  it  to  Sally 
for  pin  money." 

Harriet  returned  to  New  York  the  day  after  Thanks- 
giving. She  was  sweetly  smiling  and  formally  polite  until 
the  train  pulled  out  of  the  shed  and  she  had  waved  to 
the  group  on  the  platform.  Then  she  gave  a  sigh  of 
relief.  That  was  done  —  it  would  not  be  necessary  for 
another  two  years  —  and  two  years  is  a  long  time  in 
which  to  be  alone  and  at  peace  with  the  world.  She  took 
out  a  notebook  and  fell  to  studying  —  and  the  home  peo- 
ple were  erased  from  her  memory  as  much  as  the  menu 
for  the  Thanksgiving  dinner!  Such  was  Harriet. 

Densie  tried  to  ask  Sally  about  Rex  the  night  after 
Harriet  had  left.  She  felt  it  was  her  duty,  though  Den- 
sie had  become  like  a  swift  lovely  river  coated  over  with 
ice,  the  real  current  flowing  deeply  and  in  secret. 

"  I  am  sorry  if  you  are  going  to  let  this  man  upset  you, 

190 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Sally.  I  assure  you  he  is  not  worth  it,  "  she  told  her 
younger  daughter.  "  It  is  not  the  right  way  for  affairs 
to  progress,  and  if  you  have  quarreled  do  make  it  a  defi- 
nite one  and  begin  again  —  be  mummy's  old  Sally !  " 
She  held  out  her  arms. 

Sally  shook  her  head.  She  was  standing  looking  out  at 
the  cold  fall  night. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  said  slowly.  "  I  made 
an  awful  mistake  —  I  said  something  I  never  should  have 
said." 

And  she  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  say  more. 
Over  and  over  Sally  had  re-lived  that  brief  good-by  be- 
tween herself  and  Rex.  She  felt  humiliated  and  morti- 
fied, realizing  she  had  acted  in  his  eyes  like  a  poorly  man- 
nered child.  She  wondered  if  he  would  call  her  up  or 
write  her;  she  wondered  how  it  would  seem  to  have  to  go 
on  living  without  Rex  Humberstone.  How  terribly,  hor- 
ribly monotonous  life  would  be  —  everything  would  pall 
and  grate  on  her.  She  would  never  be  able  to  pass  by 
the  Century  Club  where  he  lived  without  feeling  dizzy 
and  faint;  she  would  scream  if  she  ever  met  him  face  to 
face  —  and  the  thought  of  his  paying  anyone  else  the 
same  wonderful  attentions  that  had  once  been  hers  — 
Sally's  eyes  grew  black  and  her  nails  cut  into  her  rosy 
little  palms. 

She  lay  awake,  tossing  restlessly  and  wondering  what 
was  best  to  do  —  whether  or  not  she  should  make  an 
advance  to  him.  She  knew  it  was  wrong,  she  ought  to 
wait  and  let  him  speak.  Had  he  returned?  Was  he 
utterly  disgusted  with  her  childish  lack  of  self-control? 
Men  did  not  like  to  have  women  throw  themselves  at 
their  heads  —  and  she  had  thrown  herself  at  Rex  in  un- 
deniable fashion.  She  could  not  take  back  those  words. 
She  hated  herself.  Then  she  began  to  analyze  how  it 

191 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

had  come  about,  just  what  had  made  her  love  him  so 
dearly?  Why  did  she  feel  dependent  on  him  for  the 
joy  of  existence?  Why  did  she  feel  ashamed  of  her 
mother  —  even  of  her  father  —  and  her  home  when  Rex 
was  about?  What  baffling,  uncanny  power  did  he  pos- 
sess? She  sat  up  in  bed;  finally  she  rose  and  walked  up 
and  down  the  floor  of  her  room,  her  hands  clenched  to- 
gether. Moonlight  stole  in,  to  show  her  the  edge  of  the 
unworn  turquoise  dancing  frock  which  hung  in  the  press; 
it  maddened  her.  She  felt  a  rejected,  despised  spinster 
whose  few  pretty  possessions  were  only  wasted  ammuni- 
tion! She  shut  the  door  of  the  press  abruptly  and  con- 
tinued her  walk. 

Why  not  telephone  the  Century  Club  and  ask  if  he  had 
returned?  She  paused,  horrified  at  the  thought.  It  was 
half  past  twelve.  Would  her  mother  and  father  hear 
her?  She  could  not  sleep  unless  she  knew  whether  he 
was  back  or  not  —  and  she  must  sleep.  She  could  call 
up  quietly  and  just  be  sure.  Supposing  he  was  back  and 
had  not  telephoned  her!  Well,  better  she  knew  the 
worst.  She  slipped  into  the  living  room  and  closed  the 
door;  the  ticking  of  the  old-fashioned  clock  seemed  to 
reprove  her  action.  Almost  in  a  whisper  she  called  the 
Century  Club  and  after  a  long  wait  the  night  man  an- 
swered. 

"  Is  Mr.  Humberstone  in  town?  "  Her  hands  trem- 
bled so  she  could  hardly  hold  the  receiver. 

'  Yes,  ma'am  —  just  a  minute,"  the  porter  answered, 
and  before  Sally  could  stop  him  someone  had  lifted  the 
receiver  hook  and  was  saying  in  the  familiar  drawl: 
''Well  — what's  wanted?" 

It  was  Rex. 

Sally's  voice  deserted  her;  every  drop  of  blood  in  her 

192 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

body  seemed  to  rush  to  her  forehead  and  cause  trip- 
hammer pulses  to  beat  rhythmically. 

"  Hello  —  hello  there,"  he  kept  saying. 

u  Rex!"  she  finally  answered. 

"  Who  is  it?     It  isn't  —  not  —  not  Sally?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  you're  doing  up  at  this 
hour?  "  He  was  pleased  she  had  called  him. 

"  I  wanted  to  know  if  you  were  home."  She  was  too 
wretched  to  pretend.  "  It  worried  me  —  that  is  all." 

"  I  came  in  to-night,  but  I  did  not  phone  you  because  I 
thought  you  might  be  having  guests  or  be  out.  How 
have  you  been?  " 

He  was  enjoying  the  victory,  and  he  proposed  to  make 
Sally  surrender  unconditionally. 

"  I  had  a  miserable  holiday.  I  wasn't  well.  My  sis- 
ter came  from  New  York  and  we  had  a  sort  of  family 
dinner  —  I  guess  you  would  call  it  that,  but  I  wasn't  very 
keen  about  it."  She  tried  to  laugh. 

"  I'm  glad  you  didn't  like  it  as  well  as  if  you  and  I  had 
our  dinner,"  he  assured  tenderly. 

Sally's  heart  beat  happily  once  more. 

"  Are  you?  "  was  all  she  said. 

"  When  can  I  see  you?  Let's  have  dinner  to-morrow 
night  at  the  Raleigh  —  then  do  something  afterward.  I 
want  to  give  you  something  pretty." 

"  All  right,"  she  said  meekly.     "  What  time?  " 

"  I'll  send  for  you  at  seven.  Now  scamper  to  bed. 
I'm  quite  set  up  to  think  you  called  me.  But  it's  two  to 
one  you  just  tumbled  in  from  a  party  and  your  conscience 
rebuked  you !  "  He  was  the  old  bantering  Rex  again. 

"  No,  no !  Truly,  I  haven't  done  anything  to-day  ex- 
cept wish  for  you  —  and  wish  I  had  not  been  so  silly." 

193 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  You're  never  silly,  dear  —  just  an  intense  little  girl. 
Good  night,  until  to-morrow." 

Sally  turned  away  from  the  phone.  Her  mother  was 
standing  in  the  doorway. 

"  My  dear,  what  was  the  matter?  " 

Sally  burst  into  tears  —  the  tension  had  snapped. 

"  I  had  been  rude  to  Rex;  he  went  away  and  I  was 
afraid  he  was  angry  and  would  never  want  to  see  me 
again.  I  love  him.  I  cannot  help  it.  It  is  more  to  me 
to  have  his  friendship  than  anything  in  this  world  or  the 
next.  I  know  it  was  not  proper  to  call  him,  but  I  couldn't 
sleep.  Mother,  don't  be  cross.  You  know  what  it 
means  to  love  someone  else  better  than  yourself,  don't 
you?  "  She  clung  to  her  mother  piteously. 

Densie  shook  her  head.  "  Poor  Sally,"  was  all  she 
said;  "  I'm  afraid  it  is  going  to  be  very  hard !  " 

The  next  night  at  dinner  Rex  gave  Sally  a  jeweler's 
ring  box,  which  she  opened  with  tremulous  delight.  A 
beautiful  two-carat  diamond  was  inside,  set  in  platinum. 
Sally's  eyes  matched  it  for  brightness. 

"  Is  it  for —  for  me?  "  she  whispered. 

Rex  looked  at  her  carefully.  Sally  had  seldom  looked 
more  beautiful.  She  wore  the  turquoise  satin  frock  and 
her  black  cape  was  draped  on  her  chair.  She  was  a  trifle 
pale  —  interestingly  so  —  her  gold  hair  was  in  curly  con- 
fusion peeping  from  under  her  hat.  She  was  staring  at 
him  as  if  he  were  a  saint  aloof  on  his  pedestal.  It  stirred 
even  Humberstone. 

"  For  you,  my  dear  —  a  pal  peace  offering.  Come, 
we  shan't  waste  any  more  time  having  bad  scenes,  Sally. 
You  know  me  and  I  know  you,  and  this  is  the  twentieth 
century.  Call  that  ring  our  pal-engagement  ring.  You 
wear  it  and  let  people  think  what  they  like.  When  some- 
one comes  along  for  whom  you  care  more  than  you  do  for 

194 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

me  give  it  back  or  toss  it  aside  and  marry  him  and 
people  will  know  you  would  not  marry  me.  Isn't  that 
a  fair  arrangement?  " 

Sally  slipped  it  on  the  third  finger  of  her  left  hand, 
holding  it  up  to  watch  the  sparkle.  "  It  is  wonderful  — 
a  pal-engagement  ring!  "  She  seemed  a  trifle  doubtful. 

"  Doesn't  that  muzzle  Madam  Grundy?  "  he  insisted. 
He  wanted  to  drive  home  his  point.  "  I  missed  you,  too, 
Sally  dear;  your  loneliness  wasn't  a  one-sided  affair.  I 
thought  over  all  you  said  and  decided  this  was  the  best 
way  out,  for  I'm  not  the  marrying  kind  and  yet  I  cannot 
bear  to  lose  you.  I  know  people  chatter  like  old  women 
if  a  man  does  take  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the  world 
about;  and  the  ring  protects  you,  Sally  —  yet  you  can  feel 
free  to  marry  anyone  else  you  like  at  any  time.  Isn't 
that  fair?" 

"  I  shall  never  want  to  marry  anyone  else,"  she  whis- 
pered softly. 

"  Well  " —  Rex  shrugged  his  shoulders  — "  then  if  you 
hedge  me  into  a  corner  —  I  suppose  I'll  be  quite  at  your 
beck  and  call,  won't  I?  " 

"  Don't  you  think  that  after  a  little  while  —  a  year  — 
even  two  years  —  you  would  want  to  marry  me  ?  How 
splendid  to  really  belong  to  you  1  "  She  was  so  serious 
she  did  not  realize  her  abandon. 

"  We'll  see.  There  will  never  be  anyone  else  for  me 
—  not  as  long  as  you  choose  to  have  it  so.  Just  take  pity 
on  an  old  bachelor  and  let  him  live  in  peace  at  the  club. 
Meantime,  here's  to  my  pal  —  the  prettiest,  wittiest,  love- 
liest girl  a  man  could  ever  love!  " 

Sally  raised  her  glass  in  answer  to  the  pledge,  the  dia- 
mond flashing  as  she  did  so.  It  almost  satisfied  her,  for 
he  had  given  her  a  bona  fide  engagement  ring,  even  if 
there  was  a  string  to  it.  Surely,  if  she  chose  to  develop 

195 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  improve  Rex  would  come  to  want  her  for  his  wife, 
and  then  heaven  would  be  hers  ahead  of  time.  Mean- 
while she  must  be  content  with  his  palship,  and  the  world 
could  think  what  it  liked. 

She  did  not  realize  the  grave  ethical  wrong  —  it  never 
occurred  to  her  that  the  wearing  of  Rex  Humberstone's 
ring  was  like  the  closing  of  a  prison  door  upon  herself 
as  regards  other  men's  attentions.  That  few  men  are 
prone  to  infringe  upon  another  man's  fiancee,  and  that  a 
two-carat  diamond  and  five  engagements  a  week  with 
the  same  person  tell  the  world  but  the  one  story  —  that 
she  is  his  fiancee.  So  Sally  shut  herself  away  from  the 
world  of  romance,  and  the  ugly  strand  of  untruth  grew 
larger  by  necessity  —  for  the  acceptance  of  the  ring  in- 
volved the  telling  of  many  falsehoods  and  the  allowing  of 
many  more  to  be  told  about  her. 

She  showed  her  parents  the  ring,  and  in  answer  to 
their  half  pleased,  half  anxious  comments  she  said, 
"  Please  don't  say  anything  to  Rex  or  anyone  else.  It 
is  just  between  ourselves;  and  I  —  I  am  not  quite  sure 
of  myself  yet.  I  want  lots  of  time." 

Which  was  Falsehood  Number  One. 

"  Suppose  you  don't  wear  the  ring  until  you  are  sure," 
suggested  her  mother.  "  It  seems  like  an  outward 
pledge." 

"  It  used  to  be,  but  people  have  changed.  It  is  a 
pledge  in  a  way;  Rex  and  I  will  never  marry  anyone  else. 
But  we  must  be  positive  we  want  to  marry  each  other. 
I'm  very  happy  —  but  I'm  very  young  and  there  is  lots 
of  time." 

Which  was  all  she  could  be  persuaded  to  say  about  the 
matter. 

Christmas  afternoon  Dean  Laddbarry  came  to  say 
good-by.  He  was  leaving  the  next  morning  for  his 

196 


long-awaited  West.  He  had  heard  about  Sally  Plum- 
mer's  beautiful  engagement  ring  and  had  forced  himself 
to  watch  the  society  columns  to  see  if  the  engagement 
was  announced.  When  it  had  not  appeared  he  won- 
dered if  they  considered  it  bad  form,  and  finally  plucked 
up  courage  to  go  and  ask  Sally. 

He  found  her  resting  because  of  a  last  night's  dancing 
party  and  in  anticipation  of  the  evening's  frolic.  The 
flat  was  rather  forlorn  with  its  artificial  tree  and  a  few 
careless-looking  Christmas  packages.  The  spirit  of  the 
day  was  not  to  be  found.  Densie  had  worked  until  mid- 
night sending  off  packages,  and  she  had  ordered  a  roasted 
turkey  from  a  restaurant,  the  Scandinavian  handmaiden 
having  unexpectedly  taken  a  few  days  off.  John  was  rest- 
less; something  seemed  to  annoy  and  tempt  him.  He 
kept  tramping  round  the  rooms,  protesting  about  useless 
gifts  and  telling  Kenneth  to  stop  beating  his  drum.  He 
missed  something  —  it  was  not  just  clear  to  him  what  it 
was,  but  he  kept  recalling  the  Christmases  when  he  and 
Densie  were  children,  when  the  day  started  with  family 
prayer,  and  the  mammoth,  real  pine  tree,  aglitter  with 
candles  and  tinsel  and  heaped  with  cotton  snow,  was  hid- 
den behind  screens  in  the  dining  room.  Then  Uncle  Her- 
bert, dressed  as  Santa  Claus,  would  hand  out  the  presents 
after  breakfast,  not  even  forgetting  a  new  harness  for 
the  ponies.  After  this  came  church,  driving  there  in  the 
sleigh,  and  they  had  half  a  dozen  lonesome  folks  in  for 
the  one  o'clock  dinner  —  and  such  a  dinner!  Man  alive, 
the  women  had  worked  two  weeks  to  prepare  it  —  end- 
less courses  and  endless  laughing  and  jokes  and  kindly, 
family  memories  recalled,  and  Uncle  Herbert  always 
stood  up,  wine  glass  in  hand,  to  sing  Believe  Me,  If  All 
Those  Enduring  Young  Charms,  to  Aunt  Sally,  who, 
after  being  coaxed  and  pretending  to  be  annoyed,  would 

197 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

respond  by  singing  Dear,  Dear,  What  Can  the  Matter 
Be!  This  was  her  Christmas  annual;  no  one  knew  why, 
but  it  was  the  song  with  which  she  responded  to  Uncle 
Herbert's  serenade. 

In  the  afternoon  the  neighborhood  children  came  to 
compare  new  possessions  or  John  and  Densie  went  to  the 
neighborhood  children's  trees  while  Aunt  Sally  and  Ellen 
Porch  packed  baskets  of  food  to  send  by  Barney  to  fami- 
lies who  would  have  had  no  Christmas  otherwise.  And 
the  evening  passed  with  a  delicious  cold  supper  and  more 
toasts  and  singing  and  the  children  being  playfully  told 
to  go  to  bed  as  was  customary  on  usual  nights  and  their 
finally  being  allowed  the  "  extreme  unction  of  the  law," 
as  Uncle  Herbert  declared.  There  were  the  string  quar- 
tet to  play  delicate  little  tunes  and  Aunt  Sally  to  accom- 
pany them,  and  usually  the  minister  recited  The  Cataract 
of  Lodore,  and  charades  or  guessing  games  followed. 
At  eleven  o'clock  they  would  all  bundle  up  to  their  chins 
in  Aunt  Sally's  stately  guest  room  and  begin  to  say  an 
old-time  cordial  good-night,  while  John  and  Densie  would 
be  found  half  asleep  in  the  recesses  of  chairs. 

That  was  a  real  Christmas  —  with  no  annoying  phono- 
graph downstairs  and  this  pretense  at  a  holiday,  a  tired 
preoccupied  wife  and  a  silly  little  daughter  running  about 
with  someone  old  enough  to  be  her  father,  his  other  child 
in  New  York  having  a  high  tea  and  delicatessen  food! 
It  irritated  John  just  as  the  Golden  Rule  Syndicate  irri- 
tated him;  he  was  worried  about  his  own  position  with 
them  now  that  they  had  taken  over  his  store.  The  firm 
was  undeniably  cheap  and  "  legally  "  dishonest  —  always 
staying  within  the  law.  He  sat  down  to  watch  Kenneth 
with  his  construction  set. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  pop?  "  Kenneth  demanded  pres- 
ently. 

198 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Wondering  where  we're  going  to  fetch  up,"  he  said 
wearily.  "  Go  into  the  next  room  now  —  I  want  to  nap." 

John  had  not  seen  Dean;  he  had  made  but  a  brief  stay. 

"  I  want  to  ask  if  you  are  engaged,"  he  said  to  Sally, 
"  before  you  call  the  family.  Just  tell  me  that." 

His  honest  gray  eyes  looked  at  her  left  hand. 

'What  about  it?"  she  bantered,  really  annoyed  that 
she  could  not  name  her  wedding  date  and  thoroughly 
shock  him. 

"  Are  you  engaged  to  Humberstone?  " 

She  held  out  her  hand.  "  Yes,"  she  said  with  bravado. 
"  Now  do  you  believe  me?  " 

He  turned  away.  "  Best  wishes,"  he  mumbled. 
"  I'm  off  to-morrow." 

"  Good  luck,  Dean.  You're  a  cheerful  sort,  I  must 
say."  Sally  was  loath  to  have  him  go. 

"  I  can't  say  any  more  when  I  know  what  kind  he  is." 

;'  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  suppose  it's  the  new  sort  of  romance  —  but  it  would 
never  be  the  way  I'd  do " 

'  You've  said  quite  enough."  Sally's  head  tossed 
haughtily.  "  Good-by,  Dean  Laddbarry." 

'There  isn't  any  use,  is  there?  I  mean  to  keep  on 
loving  you." 

He  spoke  so  simply  that  it  made  her  eyes  glow  ten- 
derly. After  all,  Dean  was  Dean,  there  was  no  one 
quite  like  his  rude  precious  self. 

"There  isn't,"  she  said  honestly;  "you'll  find  some- 
one lots  nicer.  Then  you'll  forget  all  about  me." 

'  You  don't  know  how  much  I  care,"  he  answered 
hoarsely,  and  before  she  could  speak  again  he  had  left  the 
room  and  she  invented  polite  good-bys  to  the  family  from 
Dean. 

She  had  forced  herself  to  make  capital  of  the  incident 

199 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

to  amuse  Rex.  It  served  to  please  him  Christmas  night, 
a  highly  colored  version  of  how  Dean  had  gone  away 
and  had  wanted  her  to  come  with  him  and  ho\v  she  had 
shown  him  her  ring  and  he  knew  then  she  was  engaged 
to  Rex  Humberstone. 

"  I'm  really  quite  important  in  your  scheme  of  things, 
I  can  see  that;  but  I  say,  Sally,  don't  pass  up  any  young 
millionaires  or  captains  of  the  Coldstream  Guards  — 
you  know  they're  not  to  be  had  twice  running.  I'm 
sure  to  surrender  to  rheumatism  or  something  like  that 
that  will  shove  me  on  the  shelf.  Look  out  for  yourself 
first,  y'know,  just  as  we  agreed." 

Sally  laughed  gayly,  determined  not  to  let  him  see 
how  much  she  cared.  As  yet  the  intense  selfishness  of 
his  attitude  had  not  dawned  on  her. 


200 


XIX 

With  the  further  success  of  Densie's  exchange  a  new 
element  came  into  John  Plummer's  life  —  something 
which  as  a  young  man  he  had  never  fancied  could  be 
so.  It  was  during  the  summer  when  Densie  boldly 
rented  the  adjoining  store  to  her  own  and  started  a  quilt- 
ing department,  with  white-haired  women  working  in 
the  windows  to  attract  passers-by. 

John  Plummer  met  another  woman !  At  first  it  horri- 
fied him,  but  the  years  of  small  selfishness  and  neglect, 
the  continual  contrast  between  his  wife  and  other  wives 
had  weakened  moral  perceptions  and  the  stamina  with 
which  he  had  been  endowed. 

First  of  all,  he  told  himself  rapidly,  he  still  loved 
Densie  —  of  course  he  did.  But  he  had  come  to  see 
that  there  are  different  ways  of  caring  for  different 
people,  and  that  his  way  of  loving  Densie  was  a  passive, 
obligatory  affection.  At  least,  so  he  analyzed  it. 
What  had  really  happened  was  that  now  that  Densie 
was  economically  independent  and  of  no  further  use  to 
him  in  small  coddling  attentions  he  regarded  her  in  the 
past  tense  rather  than  the  present. 

This  new  woman  was  a  "  comrade,"  he  very  bravely 
named  her,  blind  to  her  sensational  and  cheap  tactics. 
She  had  been  a  second-rate  actress,  and  failing  in  a  ca- 
reer she  had  married  and  divorced  her  husband,  and 
had  a  fruity  bundle  of  domestic  wrongs  to  tell  anyone 
who  cared  to  listen.  Long,  long  ago,  she  had  a  baby 
and  it  died.  She  had  also  written.  "  Just  the  little 

201 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

things  that  breathed  of  my  very  heart,  and  of  course  no 
editor  would  publish  them.  The  real  things  never  are 
published,  you  know,"  she  told  John,  who  agreed  with 
her. 

At  the  present  time  she  was  giving  dramatic  recitals 
of  plays  and  readings  and  private  elocution  lessons. 
John  met  her  accidentally  through  The  Golden  Rule 
Tea  Store.  She  bought  some  things  and  there  was  a 
mistake  in  the  order.  She  came  down  to  rectify  it  and 
was  referred  to  John.  He  had  asked  her  to  sit  down 
and  explain  it,  and  as  she  talked  to  him  about  the 
"  sugah  "  and  the  unfair  measure  of  cereals  he  began 
to  feel  fascinated.  She  told  him  her  name  was  Mrs. 
Iris  Starr  and  she  lived  at  Morningside  Courts  — "  a 
wee  box  of  a  place."  She  had  large,  pale-blue  eyes  and 
flaxen  hair,  noticeably  flaxen;  and  she  was  tall  and  thin, 
her  white  organdie  cross-stitched  with  black  emphasizing 
this  appearance.  Her  hat  was  a  floppy  leghorn  with 
plump  little  roses  punctuating  the  brim,  and  she  wore 
strings  of  coral  which  hung  below  her  waist  and  had 
bangles  on  the  end,  and  numerous  rings  on  all  her  fin- 
gers. 

But  she  knew  how  to  look  at  one  appealingly  and  pre- 
tend she  was  going  to  cry,  and  she  had  a  faculty  of  mak- 
ing a  throaty  quiver  come  into  her  voice  as,  for  instance, 
when  she  spoke  of  her  "  broken  life  "  or  her  "  brave 
little  attempts  at  keeping  a  home." 

John  felt  very  sorry  for  her.  She  seemed  so  graceful, 
like  a  girl,  and  her  voice  was  vibrant  and  pleasing.  She 
had  a  humorous  side  to  her,  which  developed  at  a  spank- 
ing pace  directly  on  the  heels  of  tears.  She  told  him 
she  could  cook  a  dinner  or  go  hunting,  make  a  dress  or 
play  poker  equally  well.  "  And  of  course  my  work  — 

202 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

that  comes  first  of  all !  "  Which  led  up  to  his  asking 
when  the  next  recital  would  be.  She  gave  him  the  name 
of  the  hall  and  the  date,  two  days  away,  and  he  made  a 
note  of  it  and  took  a  dollar  ticket. 

He  kept  thinking  of  Iris  Starr  the  rest  of  the  day  — 
what  a  splendid  sort  she  was,  game  yet  beautiful,  efficient 
yet  attractive.  Densie  lost  a  great  deal  of  caste  after 
the  advent  of  Iris  Starr,  and  Mrs.  Starr  received  the 
most  generous  order  of  groceries  the  Golden  Rule  had 
ever  been  known  to  send  forth.  She  wrote  John  a  tiny 
pink  note  scented  with  lilac,  thanking  him  and  saying 
she  would  look  for  him  at  the  recital. 

The  evening  of  the  recital  John  industriously  got  into 
his  tuxedo  and  groomed  himself  diligently.  No  one 
was  at  home,  so  no  one  paid  any  attention  to  his  actions. 
He  arrived  rather  early  at  a  mediocre  side  hall,  the  re- 
cital being  given  under  the  auspices  of  some  church  so- 
ciety. 

He  was  impatient  with  the  preliminaries  —  home-tal- 
ent orchestra,  and  so  forth  —  until  Mrs.  Starr  made  her 
appearance  in  a  black  chiffon  frock  embroidered  with 
gold  lilies  and  a  great  deal  of  sparkling  jet  jewelry. 

She  did  the  conventional  numbers  —  scenes  from 
Shakespere,  with  Riley's  There,  Little  Girl,  Don't  Cry 
as  an  encore,  and  a  little  of  Stephen  Phillips,  topped  off 
by  Paul  Dunbar's  Adam  Never  Had  No  Mammy,  and 
finally  the  old  stand-by,  which  proved  very  popular  with 
the  audience  —  The  Lady  of  Shalott! 

After  the  recital  John  found  himself  lingering  in 
hopes  of  congratulating  Mrs.  Starr.  He  supposed  she 
would  go  home  in  a  cab  with  a  bevy  of  admiring  friends 
and  he  felt  he  would  be  out  of  place.  But  the  hall 
cleared  quickly  and  only  the  treasurer  was  left,  count- 

203 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ing  the  money.  In  a  street  dress  and  hat  Mrs.  Starr 
came  into  view,  carrying  a  bag.  She  hailed  him  with  a 
delighted  smile. 

"  How  awfully  good  of  you,"  she  began,  holding  out 
her  hand. 

"  I  think  I'm  the  lucky  chap,"  John  responded. 

Mrs.  Starr  cast  an  anxious  eye  toward  the  treasurer. 

"  Do  wait  a  moment,  I  must  settle  this  —  I  want  to 
ask  your  opinion  if  you  have  time."  She  fluttered 
across  the  room  and  returned  presently  with  a  rather 
rueful  expression. 

'This  is  barnstorming!"  she  declared  vehemently. 

'  Think  —  my  night's  work  nets  me  twelve  dollars  and 

sixty  cents!  You  see  I  was  on  a  percentage.     It  doesn't 

seem  very  much  when  you  give  your  whole  self  to  it, 

does   it?" 

She  had  put  her  hand  on  John's  arm  in  a  sort  of  shy 
fashion  and  they  were  walking  downstairs. 

"I  should  think  not!"  John  championed  ardently. 
"  What  a  shame !  You  deserve  ten  times  as  much  —  it 
must  be  a  terrible  strain  on  you,  and  you  did  magnifi- 
cently." 

They  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  he  looked 
about  for  her  cab. 

"  I  have  no  coach  and  four,"  she  remarked  wistfully. 
"  I'll  tell  you  a  secret  —  elocutionists  have  to  walk  these 
days!  But  then,  I  make  the  best  of  my  poor  little  life." 
She  paused  as  if  to  bid  him  good  night. 

"  You  must  not  go  home  alone,"  he  urged.  "  I'd 
be  happy  to  see  you  to  your  door." 

"  You're  so  good,"  she  accepted  the  offer  hastily,  and 
John  found  himself  more  amused  and  interested  than  he 
had  been  in  years  during  the  too  brief  walk  to  Mrs. 
Starr's  apartment.  She  did  not  ask  him  to  come  in, 

204 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

but  he  learned  the  date  of  her  next  recital  and  promised 
to  come.  Each  understood  that  he  was  to  see  her  home 
as  well. 

He  walked  back  jauntily.  What  a  woman  she  was! 
Clever,  simple,  beautiful,  and  a  good  fellow  —  she  had 
been  very  wise  in  all  she  had  told  him ! 

When  Iris  Starr  undressed  that  night  she  looked  anx- 
iously at  herself  in  the  glass.  She  was  growing  old. 
It  was  a  weary  age  of  the  heart  as  well  as  the  body. 
Without  her  make-up  and  skilful  hairdressing  her  face 
was  haggard.  She  counted  over  the  money  again. 
Then  she  thought  of  John  Plummer.  She  knew  as 
little  of  the  business  world  as  John  did  of  the  artistic. 
She  supposed  he  must  be  a  rich  man,  and  she  knew  his 
wife  kept  the  Woman's  Exchange  on  Dundas  Street. 
Indeed,  she  had  often  gone  in  to  lunch  there.  She  could 
see  he  was  lonely  —  and  handsome  —  and  gullible. 
And  that  he  had  always  been  loyal  to  his  wife  except 
in  vague  thoughts. 

"I  wonder,"  she  mused,  turning  off  the  light — "I 
wonder  if  I've  enough  ambkion  left  in  me  to  amuse 
anyone  again."  Then  in  the  darkness  she  smiled  at  the 
thought,  "  It  wouldn't  take  very  much  brains  to  amuse 
him  —  he's  quite  lambish!" 

John  attended  the  next  recital,  and  the  next,  and  every 
recital  thereafter,  accompanying  Mrs.  Starr  home  each 
time.  He  procured  an  engagement  for  her  through 
one  of  his  clubs,  and  she  appeared  at  a  downtown  hotel, 
creating  quite  a  little  success.  By  this  time  John  went 
in  to  visit  with  her  at  her  apartment  and  was  thoroughly 
conversant  with  her  bruised  little  life  and  planned  to 
make  her  a  Shaksperean  actress,  which  she  certainly 
was  destined  to  be.  The  Sothern-Marlowe  revival  had 
stirred  her  with  envy,  she  confessed,  and  John  gallantly 

205 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

assured  her  that  she  could  not  only  do  as  well  but  better. 

The  whole  secret  of  Iris  Starr's  fascination  for  him 
was  her  undiluted  flattery  of  him.  Densie  never  flat- 
tered. She  adored  one,  but  when  that  adoration  was 
rejected  or  ignored  she  turned  to  other  things.  To  flat- 
ter was  not  in  her  make-up.  Iris  Starr  had  always 
made  her  living  by  flattering  both  men  and  women. 
And  she  was  spending  her  last  years  looking  for  a  hus- 
band who  could  not  control  his  generosity.  John  was  an 
easy  victim.  He  was  always  kept  in  a  standoffish 
position  —  she  always  impressed  on  him  the  fact 
she  was  jeopardizing  her  reputation  by  being  friends 
with  him  because  he  was  married,  yet  she  could 
not  help  it,  he  was  so  wonderful !  That  in  itself  was 
a  ten-strike  with  John,  and  she  knew  it.  Then  she 
had  wonderful  little  suppers  which  she  cooked  herself, 
and  sometimes  she  asked  in  an  unattractive  woman 
friend  —  she  always  saw  to  the  fact  of  her  being  unat- 
tractive. She  allowed  John  to  send  her  flowers  —  and 
sometimes  groceries,  humorous  as  it  seems  —  and  gradu- 
ally she  won  from  him  the  fact  that  he  felt  his  wife  and 
himself  had  married  too  young,  they  had  not  known 
their  minds.  She  learned  about  Harriet  and  Sally  and 
Rex  —  she  had  seen  Rex  and  admired  him  from  afar  — 
and  that  his  wife  was  making  a  mollycoddle  out  of  Ken- 
neth. Diplomatically  Iris  Starr  laid  the  wires  for  John's 
open  rebellion  against  his  wife. 

Densie  did  not  hear  of  the  affair  until  the  following 
year,  because  it  was  the  very  last  thing  that  she  would 
have  believed.  But  Sally  came  home  from  a  hotel  din- 
ner with  the  news  that  father  had  that  elocutionist  there 
and  had  tried  to  hide  behind  a  palm  lest  she  see 
him.  It  disturbed  Sally  far  more  than  it  had  John. 
Rex  had  laughed  at  it  —  it  made  him  rather  secure  with 

206 


John  Plummer,  and  he  told  Sally  th?t  she  could  not 
expect  a  young,  handsome  daddy  to  stay  home  reading 
Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs  until  the  exch.mge  closed! 

With  customary  reserve  Densie  made  light  of  the  mat- 
ter before  Sally.  She  waited  until  she  was  alone  with 
John  to  ask  as  to  the  truth  of  it. 

"  I've  nothing  to  say,"  was  his  answer. 

"  You  were  there  —  Sally  saw  you,"  she  remon- 
strated. 

"  Yes,  I  was  —  and  I've  been  to  see  her.  You  don't 
care  what  I  do,  Densie,  and  there  is  nothing  wrong  about 
the  thing.  There  isn't  a  finer,  nobler  woman  than  Iris 
Starr.  Talk  about  a  hard  life  —  that  woman's  experi- 
ences would  fill  any  two  books!  I  met  her  acci- 
dentally —  fate,  she  calls  it  —  and  I'm  sure  there's  no 
harm  in  knowing  her.  I'll  ask  her  up  here  if  you  like." 

Which  was  a  bluff,  and  Densie  knew  it. 

"  Don't  bother.  I'm  content  if  you  are.  Only  how 
would  you  like  to  see  me  taking  dinner  with  a  strange 
man?" 

John  laughed.  It  was  so  impossible  to  think  of  Den- 
sie's  so  doing.  "  Come,  dear,  maybe  I  shouldn't  have 
taken  her  to  dinner.  It  was  the  first  time,  on  my  honor. 
But  she  has  a  rocky  time  of  it  to  make  her  way,  and  a 
little  cheer  helps  her  out.  She  interests  me  because  she 
is  different  from  anyone  I  know.  We  are  merely  good 
friends.  You  and  I  are  man  and  wife,"  he  added  bru- 
tally, "  but,  by  Jove,  I've  come  to  see  that  we  are  not 
friends." 

"Have   you?"   she   said   sadly.     u  I'm   so   sorry." 
'  You  wouldn't  give  an  inch   in  your  ideas  —  which 
never  does  in  any  partnership." 

Densie  did  not  answer. 

Presently  John  burst  out:   "What   about   Sally  and 

207 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Rex  and  their  engagement?     Is  that  any  worse  than  my 
taking  Mrs.  Starr  to  dinner?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  only  guilty  people  try  defending 
themselves  by  comparison?  "  she  asked  soberly. 

"  I'm  not  defending  myself,  but  if  you  have  a  business 
of  your  own  and  run  it  to  suit  yourself  I  have  a  right 
to  run  my  business  and  my  affairs " 

"  Do  you  want  to  marry  her?  "  she  said  in  the  same 
sober  manner. 

"  Great  heavens,  no !  "  Though  he  began  wondering 
at  that  very  instant  whether  or  not  he  did  want  to  marry 
Iris  Starr.  "What  are  you  driving  at?" 

"  Because  if  you  do  —  you  can,"  she  informed  him. 
'  We  don't  seem  to  make  each  other  any  the  more  happy 
by  being  together." 

"  I've  no  idea  of  upsetting  everyone  at  this  stage  of 
the  game.  I  just  said  early  marriages  are  a  mistake." 

"  I  see." 

And  Densie  refused  to  speak  of  the  matter  again. 
Whatever  came  to  her  ears  she  kept  her  own  counsel 
concerning;  she  did  not  even  discuss  it  with  Sally,  who 
made  indignant  protests.  It  was  John's  problem,  let 
him  deal  with  it  as  he  would.  Densie  had  seen  Mrs. 
Starr  once,  and  she  smiled  in  amusement  at  the  disillu- 
sionment that  was  waiting  for  John  should  his  good  for- 
tune ever  fail  him.  But  to  all  appearances  she  remained 
the  childlike  wife  of  a  man  who  did  no  wrong  in  her  eyes, 
and  she  devoted  herself  to  the  exchange  so  that  at  the 
end  of  the  year  she  figured  up  she  had  made  as  much 
money  as  John  and  had  paid  her  fair  share  of  the  ex- 
penses besides  buying  her  own  and  Kenneth's  clothes. 
Iris  Starr  comrades  are  expensive  trifles. 

Lucy  Parks  died  at  the  holiday  season;  she  had  been 
ailing  a  long  time,  only  Densie  had  seen  to  it  that  she 

208 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

had  care.  There  was  enough  money  to  bury  her  de- 
cently, and  the  Plummer  family  and  Miss  Hatton,  more 
eccentric  than  ever  these  days,  were  the  sole  mourners. 

The  little  old  lady's  death  sobered  them  for  an  instant; 
she  recalled  memories,  and  again  reminded  them  that 
there  must  come  an  end  to  all  things  —  even  Rex  Hum- 
berstone  and  Iris  Starr  and  the  Woman's  Exchange. 
Kenneth  took  her  death  the  most  to  heart. 

"  Why  didn't  she  marry  and  have  lots  of  children 
to  bury  her?"  he  demanded  several  days  afterward. 

"  Because  her  lover  v/as  killed  at  Gettysburg,  and  she 
was  loyal." 

"Couldn't  she  love  someone   else?" 

"  People  didn't  —  as  much  as  they  do  now." 

"  Isn't  it  right  to  love  someone  else?  " 

"  I  guess  so,  Kenneth  —  why?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  how  nice  it  would  be  if  you  loved 
someone  else,  and  daddy  loved  someone  else,  and  Sally 
loved  Dean  instead  of  Rex,  and  Harry  would  love  some- 
one —  and  we'd  all  start  in  again." 

'  Why  don't  you  want  us  to  stay  the  way  we  are?  " 
his  mother  asked  thoughtfully. 

"  I  don't  know  —  all  the  old  love  seems  to  have  worn 
out."  Then  he  added,  "  I  guess  I'll  have  to  get  a  girl 
myself.  All  the  boys  have  one.  Cy  has  a  girl,  and 
Mark  has  a  girl,  and  so  has  Tommy  Kane.  I'd  like 
Cy's  girl,  but  Cy  wouldn't  stand  for  it.  I  could  have  a 
girl,  but  I  don't  want  her;  she's  an  Eyetalian  and  when 
she  hands  out  the  papers  in  school  she  whispers,  '  I  love 
you,'  when  she  passes  me.  That  don't  go  —  I'd  rather 
be  the  one  to  whisper  it." 

'Thank  heaven!"  murmured  Densie  between  a  tear 
and  a  laugh.  "An  old-fashioned  son!" 

The  next  week  a  great  honor  befell  Densie,  as  un- 

209 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

expected  as  had  been  the  success  of  her  exchange.  She 
was  elected  state  president  of  the  federation  of  clubs, 
because  of  her  unusual  achievement  in  the  matter  of 
the  exchange.  She  had  not  realized  how  victorious  she 
had  been.  This  meant  she  must  give  less  of  her  time 
to  the  exchange  and  more  to  club  life.  She  recalled  the 
shabby  little  delegate  to  New  York  some  years  before, 
and  how  she  would  now  wield  the  gavel  and  greet  other 
shabby  delegates. 

When  she  told  John  the  news  he  went  out  and  bought 
Iris  Starr  a  gold  watch  and  chain.  After  a  soulful  talk, 
inspired  by  said  watch  and  chain,  Iris  said  diplomatically : 
"  It  seems  to  me  divorce  is  quite  as  ethical  as  marriage. 
You  must  remember  we  are  living  in  a  new  age  and 
people  are  being  divorced  for  many  reasons.  They  sel- 
dom wait  for  horrid,  sordid  happenings.  The  main  rea- 
son and  the  most  ethical  one  is  that  they  are  true  to  their 
own  selves." 

John  had  listened  spellbound  as  she  concluded :  "  The 
only  real  sin  about  caring  for  someone  is  the  hiding  it. 
When  a  woman  fails  to  grow  and  develop  with  her  hus- 
band she  should  renounce  him  without  question  when  he 
has  found  a  true  love.  That  is  only  justice." 

With  a  whirling  head  John  agreed  and  felt  strangely 
elated. 


210 


XX 

During  the  close  of  the  year  Maude  Hatton  became 
a  princess,  with  a  different  frock  for  each  hour  of  the 
day,  and  she  called  Densie  her  lady-in-waiting  and  re- 
buked her  when  she  failed  to  carry  her  pink  satin  train 
as  she  wished!  The  old  lady's  mind  had  failed  sadly 
since  Lucy  Park's  death,  but  she  stayed  on  in  her  soli- 
tary room,  too  feeble  to  work  except  odds  and  ends  for 
Densie's  exchange,  and  protesting  vigorously  if  anyone 
attempted  to  do  anything  for  her. 

They  finally  sent  for  Densie,  and  after  a  little  man- 
agement Densie  took  the  princess  to  her  palace  —  for 
to  the  faded  old  eyes  the  asylum  was  a  veritable  mansion 
of  red  brick  with  lawns  and  gardens  and  many  courtiers 
waiting  for  their  queen!  She  was  quite  happy,  for  she 
felt  she  had  come  into  her  own,  she  told  Densie,  and  she 
was  willing  to  say  good-by  and  be  left  in  state,  her  gray 
head  nodding  and  bobbing  royal  greetings  to  all  who 
passed. 

Densie  left  her  with  a  greater  feeling  of  regret  than 
when  she  had  driven  home  from  Lucy  Parks'  funeral. 
With  tender  pity  she  looked  through  the  insane  woman's 
possessions  —  such  a  stunted,  meager  little  life  as  it 
had  been,  after  all.  In  the  brass-bound  trunk,  which 
had  been  Maude  Hatton's  father's,  was  the  history  of 
her  life  —  the  scraps  of  her  first  party  dress,  yellowed 
old  letters,  and  in  a  faded  plush  box  lay  the  evidences  of 
her  one  great  romance,  the  little  bangle  bracelet,  the  pic- 
ture of  a  soldier  lad  taken  in  Sixty-One,  a  few  letters, 

211 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

some  poems  he  had  copied  for  her  in  a  flowing  beflour- 
ished  hand  —  they  were  clear  and  legible  even  yet  — 
Who  is  Sylvia;  and  one  of  her  favorite  hymns. 

Densie  burned  everything;  she  felt  no  one  else  had 
the  right  to  pry  into  the  spinster's  withered  dreams. 
Had  she  been  at  the  Little  House  they  would  have  been 
put  in  the  attic,  but  in  her  present  circumstances  the  fur- 
nace was  the  kindly  alternative. 

No  one  missed  Maude  Hatton.  It  was  a  relief  to 
Sally  and  Kenneth,  for  they  had  long  been  messengers 
up  to  the  old  lady's  rooms.  When  Densie  told  John 
what  had  happened  he  said  he  wished  she  might  not  last 
long,  that  growing  old  was  a  mighty  monster  after  every 

last  one  of  us He  merely  thought  of  the  incident 

as  applying  to  his  possible  future. 

For  John  Plummer  and  Iris  Starr  were  at  that  de- 
lightful stage  of  a  mild,  middle-aged  intrigue  wherein 
they  were  longing  to  begin  all  over  again,  "  knowing 
what  we  do  now  "  and  planning  to  remodel  the  universe 
on  original  lines. 

Densie  knew  something  of  what  was  transpiring,  but 
she  paid  little  attention  to  it.  Pride  caused  her  to  seem 
indifferent,  and  whenever  she  saw  Iris  Starr  her  sense 
of  humor  got  the  better  of  her  and  she  could  have  scolded 
John  as  she  scolded  Kenneth.  She  was  amused  at  the 
pensive  attitude  John  assumed  when  she  was  at  home 
with  him,  the  bored  way  in  which  he  sat  at  the  table 
and  kept  up  a  desultory  conversation  and  how  he  rushed 
away  to  go  to  Iris  Starr's  apartment  and  be  properly  ap- 
preciated by  having  a  "  soul  massage,"  as  Densie  named 
her  treatment  of  him. 

Once  when  she  had  asked  John  about  the  ending  of 
the  affair  he  vigorously  protested  against  the  thought  of 
a  divorce :  that  held  a  certain  old-time  horror  for  him. 

212 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

There  were  the  children  to  consider,  though  many  of 
his  friends  were  divorced,  even  after  their  own  children 
had  married  —  men  who  married  "  too  young  to  know 
their  minds,"  he  told  Densie. 

"  It  is  not  fair  to  Mrs.  Starr,  John,  to  take  up  her 
time,"  Densie  had  argued;  "  and  it  is  not  pleasant  for 
Sally  to  keep  meeting  you  like  an  eloping  couple  at 
every  secluded  dining  room  in  town."  She  did  not  men- 
tion herself. 

"  I  wish  you'd  understand  the  thing  fairly.  Why  are 
women  narrow-minded?"  he  fumed. 

"  It  seems  to  me  I  understand  it  very  well;  ordinarily 
I  should  have  been  lost  in  tears  and  reproaches." 

He  looked  at  her  a  moment  without  speaking.  Then 
he  said:  "  I  don't  think  the  less  of  you,  Densie;  you're 
the  children's  mother.  Only  we  have  different  ideas, 
and  nowadays  one  is  not  expected  to  coop  himself  up 
in  a  two-by-four  run  and  not  be  permitted  any  frankness 
of  opinions." 

"  Don't  apologize !  " 

"  By  the  way.  I've  had  a  squeeze  for  money  this 
month:  could  you  manage  with  half  the  allowance?" 

John  was  thinking  and  had  been  thinking  that  if  a 
woman  earned  as  much  money  as  Densie  did  it  was  only 
fair  that  she  use  some  of  it  for  expenses  in  the  house. 
Ten  years  ago  he  would  have  protested  against  such  an 
idea.  But  it  was  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  his  mod- 
ernism. 

"  Certainly,"  she  said.  "  I've  expected  this  for  a  long 
while." 

Despite  his  splutterings  she  would  not  argue  the  mat- 
ter. 

John's  affair  with  Iris  Starr  was  as  laughable  as  a 
grown  dog's  trying  to  chew  up  cook's  rubbers  and  a  little 

213 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

soap.  It  was  a  puppy-dog  sort  of  escapade  which  should 
have  taken  place  twenty  years  before  —  and,  like  all 
grown-up  dogs  who  attempt  chewing  up  rubbers  or  soap, 
everyone  called  him  mad  and  gave  him  a  prompt  court- 
martial.  John  was  really  misjudged. 

Iris  Starr  did  not  misjudge  him,  for  she  was  clever  in 
her  shallow  way  and  could  understand  the  exact  circum- 
stances. She  knew  she  had  a  difficult  hand  to  play,  and 
unless  she  played  it  skillfully  she  would  lose  the  chance 
to  marry  him.  She  wanted  to  marry  John  —  he  was 
attractive  personally,  she  could  domineer  over  him,  and 
to  her  way  of  thinking  he  held  a  "  wonderful  position." 
His  wife  did  not  understand  or  appreciate  him;  now- 
adays to  get  a  divorce  round  forty-five  or  fifty  and  marry 
someone  else  was  quite  a  common  occurrence.  Iris  had 
known  the  seamy  side  of  romance  far  more  than  John 
suspected.  She  saw  to  it  that  he  looked  upon  her  as  a 
helpless,  injured  woman  with  unappreciated  genius,  due 
to  her  timid  ladylike  ability  not  to  make  herself  heard; 
and  with  all  this  was  the  longing  to  be  his  home  keeper, 
his  mental  inspiration,  his  romantic  ideal! 

Iris  had  managed  to  convey  this  impression  gradually, 
she  could  see  that  John  had  been  the  father  of  a  family 
for  so  long  that  it  would  require  clever  handling  to  lead 
him  bodily  into  the  divorce  court.  She  also  made  him 
feel  that  her  present  position  in  the  matter  was  almost 
tragic  unless  it  was  short-lived;  that  to  acknowledge 
John  Plummer,  a  married  man,  as  her  great  friend  was 
damning  to  her  work  and  her  conscience,  and  yet  — 
here  the  pale  blue  eyes  looked  like  stars  with  a  hint  of 
tears  to  veil  them  prettily  —  she  cared  so  much  for  him 
that  she  was  willing  to  brave  social  ostracism  and  to  wait 
until  he  could  divorce  his  wife  or  vice  versa  and  they 

214 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

be  married.  Iris  had  been  divorced  —  a  pitiful  tale  as 
she  told  it.  She  said  the  judge  was  very  tender  with 
her  and  had  denounced  her  husband  bitterly  from  the 
bench. 

This  propaganda  was  accompanied  with  a  good  steak 
nicely  broiled  and  swimming  in  butter  sauce  or  some 
other  delicacy  John  liked  and  did  not  have  at  the  flat 
since  the  advent  of  the  Scandinavian  handmaiden;  or 
else  it  was  told  him  when  they  were  sitting  on  the  roof 
of  the  apartment  house,  which  she  had  converted  into  a 
little  box  garden,  John  swinging  in  the  hammock  and 
smoking  in  contentment  and  Iris  in  a  lavendery  silk  with 
fluttering  silver  ribbons  sitting  opposite  in  a  steamer 
chair,  her  pale  yellow  hair  in  thick  braids  round  her  oval 
head. 

She  used  to  send  John  home  at  half  past  nine  very 
punctiliously,  and  whenever  he  came  home  with  her  from 
a  recital  she  always  had  Katiebel  Drummond,  a  cross- 
eyed spinister  with  the  additional  charm  of  a  goiter  — 
waiting  to  be  a  proper  chaperone,  and  contrast. 

In  very  short  time  John  adored  Iris;  he  looked  upon 
her  as  a  "  pale  blossom  which  must  be  tenderly  cher- 
ished "  and  so  forth,  and  told  himself  to  be  careful  never 
to  shock  or  startle  her  in  any  way.  One  could  have 
smiled  at  John's  careful  toilet,  the  slicking-back  of  his 
hair  and  flaunting  of  new  ties.  At  John's  age  it  was 
pitiful  to  behold. 

"  We  can't  drift,  Iris,"  he  said  one  winter  evening 
when  they  were  having  one  of  their  feasts.  "  I  wonder 
if  I  have  the  right  to  —  to  ask  my  wife  for  freedom." 

He  winced  as  he  spoke  of  Densie  before  her;  strangely 
enough  it  seemed  a  sacrilege. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  can't,"  Iris  said  almost  too  ea- 
gerly. "  She  doesn't  want  you  —  no  woman  wants  a 

215 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

man  if  she  goes  into  clubs  and  keeps  a  shop.  I'm  so 
lonesome ! "  She  held  out  her  slender  white  hands 
dramatically. 

"  It  is  a  little  hard — after  all  our  lives  together " 

"  Habit,"  she  answered  harshly.  "  Besides,  I've  no 
doubt  she'd  rather  have  her  freedom.  Your  children 
are  growing  up.  Let  her  take  your  boy,  and  let  the  girls 
look  out  for  themselves." 

Then  she  realized  she  had  spoken  a  little  too  honestly 
and  she  became  noncommittal  and  shy  during  the  rest 
of  the  evening.  But  before  John  left  she  had  his  prom- 
ise for  a  talk  with  Densie  and  the  loan  of  a  hundred  dol- 
lars. 

"  Just  consider  it  business,  Iris,  and  think  of  me  as  if 
I  were  a  bank  and  you  borrowed  it  at  six  per  cent,"  John 
had  argued. 

She  had  had  several  of  these  "  loans  from  a  bank." 
After  he  left  she  went  about  the  house  humming.  It 
seemed  that  here  was  a  haven  at  last.  She  was  weary 
of  hand-to-mouth  existence  and  she  would  not  do  any 
regular  work.  John  was  going  to  marry  and  take  care 
of  her  —  as  long  as  she  had  brains  enough  to  make  him 
want  to  marry  her!  She  smiled  triumphantly  and 
nodded  to  herself  as  she  passed  a  mirror. 

"  I  think  you'll  be  wise  enough  this  time,"  she  told 
herself. 

While  John  Plummer  and  Iris  were  planning  to  re- 
build their  world  to  their  liking  Sally  Plummer  was 
learning  that  a  dishonest,  unreal  love  breeds  ugliness  in 
one's  soul,  and  that  she  was  at  a  standstill  with  Rex 
Humberstone  though  caring  for  him  in  the  same  infatu- 
ated manner. 

With  her  impetuous  nature  Sally  was  becoming  tragic 
and  unreasonable,  perverted  in  her  viewpoint  and  addled 

216 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

as  to  a  proper  sense  of  values.  She  told  herself  she  had 
a  hold  on  Rex,  blushing  as  she  did  so.  He  would  not 
dare  cast  her  off  like  a  worn-out  glove.  She  could  re- 
main his  financee  to  everyone's  opinion  if  she  chose  to  do 
so.  She  had  lied  so  much  for  and  about  him  and  to 
herself  that  she  felt  a  determined  recklessness.  She  had 
cast  her  lot  with  Rex.  Other  girls  had  done  the  same 
with  other  men,  she  discovered,  as  she  went  round  with 
him  month  after  month  —  other  pale  young  girls,  over- 
dressed, accompanying  cynical  men  of  the  world  who 
merely  rejoiced  in  surrounding  themselves  with  youth 
and  who  had  no  intention  of  marrying  them  and  assum- 
ing the  cares  and  obligations  of  such  a  relationship ! 
These  cynical  men  of  the  world  would  have  gallantly 
argued  that  there  was  no  harm  in  what  they 
did,  they  did  not  force  these  young  persons  to 
become  their  companions  —  neither  were  they  harming 
them  in  any  way.  Well,  it  is  an  old  beau's  art  to  be 
evasive,  yet  to  gain  his  own  selfish  end'! 

Sally  herself  could  not  explain  the  exact  wrong  in  the 
condition.  It  usually  began,  as  her  own  affair  had, 
with  a  young  girl's  being  discontented  at  home  and  flat- 
tered by  someone  like  Rex,  with  the  young  girl's  fall- 
ing a  prey  to  his  charms,  which  the  man  displayed 'as 
wisely  as  a  jeweler  does  his  wares,  making  boys  seem 
penurious,  immature  boors  by  contrast,  and  gradually 
the  young  girl  becomes  so  fascinated  with  the  older 
man,  so  changed  in  her  views  of  life,  her  standards  for 
pleasure,  her  belittling  of  worth  and  saving  —  that  the 
boys  regard  her  as  "  different  "  and  pass  her  by.  Not 
until  years  elapse,  as  with  Sally,  does  that  normal, 
hungry  longing  to  be  someone's  wife  and  home  maker 
come  to  her,  the  pang  of  envy  when  she  passes 
by  new  babies  in  white  prams  with  huge  bows  on 

217 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  snowy  afghans,  which  are  proudly  wheeled  by 
the  young  girl  mothers  who  have  married  the  boys 
and  dispensed  with  a  few  eight-dollar  dinners  or  fif- 
teen-dollar auto  drives.  It  seemed  to  Sally  when  she 
met  some  of  her  former  friends  as  if  she  were  peering 
through  the  outer  bars  to  a  lost  paradise. 

This  was  what  was  slowly  happening.  It  would  have 
crushed  some  girls,  but  with  Sally  it  developed  defiance. 
At  twenty-four  she  was  as  sophisticated  as  a  woman  of 
forty  in  some  ways  —  the  disillusionment  of  romance, 
for  example.  She  had  gone  her  way,  disregarding  her 
mother,  and  now  a  fierce  pride  would  not  let  her  admit 
to  either  her  mother  or  her  friends  that  she  was  any- 
thing but  content.  She  said  Rex  did  not  want  to  marry 
her  because  he  wanted  to  build  just  such  a  style  house  — 
men  have  such  set  ideas,  you  know,  not  like  a  boy,  con- 
tent with  love  in  a  cottage !  After  this  excuse  wore  out 
she  said  she  did  not  want  to  give  up  her  freedom,  there 
was  plenty  of  time  and  she  was  having  too  good  a  time; 
she  made  her  foolish  little  painting  daubs  a  shield  —  but 
everyone  saw  through  and  over  and  round  the  shield, 
and  only  smiled  in  pity.  Sally  wanted  to  do  her  own 
work  in  her  own  way,  she  would  insist,  and  when  one 
married  —  well  —  one  could  not  do  as  he  wished,  and 
so  she  thought  she  would  wait  a  little  longer!  All  the 
time  the  brilliant  ring  haunted  her  with  its  useless  bind- 
ing beauty.  It  was  a  far  handsomer  ring  than  any  of 
her  girl  friends  had  had  —  but  they  had  added  a  wed- 
ding band  long  ago ! 

Sally  used  to  argue  with  herself  to  become  convinced 
this  was  the  true  state  of  affairs  and  she  was  happy. 
She  forced  herself  to  be  content;  then  by  force  of  con- 
trast she  would  become  savage  toward  Rex  and  indulge 

218 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

in  wild  moods,  during  which  she  upbraided  him  and  he 
sat  frowning  and  sipping  a  cordial,  saying: 

"  Come,  Sally,  wrinkles  don't  become  that  pretty  fore- 
head. You  know  I've  always  been  frank  with  you  — 
there  isn't  anyone  I  like  half  so  much.  Do  be  your  jolly 
self  and  let's  shoo  the  worries  off!  " 

After  brief  periods  of  rebelling  and  resolving  to  go 
away  and  make  Rex  realize  that  if  he  really  cared  enough 
for  her  to  marry  her  he  must  do  so,  Sally  would  try  to 
school  herself  not  to  see  him  for  a  week.  To  this  he 
would  laughingly  agree,  but  within  a  few  days  Sally 
would  have  called  him  up  and  meekly  asked  him  to  come 
and  take  her  driving! 

"  It  isn't  real  love,  Rex;  I  do  know  that  much,"  she 
said  one  day  during  the  January  of  1910.  "  It  is  some- 
thing terribly  like  it  —  the  same  as  a  reconstructed  jewel 
can  almost  fool  an  expert.  It  is  a  ghastly  sort  of  emo- 
tion that  can  engulf  you  —  and  yet  even  while  it  does 
so  you  realize  it  is  not  real!  " 

They  had  driven  to  the  country  club  and  were  loung- 
ing before  an  open  fire. 

"  Ah,  Sally,  you're  going  to  have  me  on  the  rack 
again,  aren't  you?  How  pretty  you  look,"  he  kissed  his 
finger  tips  to  her  —  but  she  shook  her  head. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  a  compliment  would  have 
swayed  her  from  earnest  discussion,  but  that  was  past  — 
it  was  more  often  the  signal  for  a  battle.  She  had 
learned  to  know  the  seductive  influence  of  such  compli- 
ments. In  reality  Sally  was  suffering  from  cabin  fever, 
as  her  mother  had  suffered  from  it  years  before.  One 
can  have  cabin  fever  in  a  white-marble  palace  as  well  as  a 
desert  lean-to.  Rex  was  the  cause  of  Sally's  cabin  fever. 

"  Don't  drag  in  those  things  when  I  try  to  be  serious," 

219 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

she  pouted,  standing  up  to  throw  off  her  coat,  unaided, 
and  settle  herself  before  the  fire. 

Rex  looked  at  her  critically.  With  all  her  tantrums 
Sally  had  not  begun  to  fade.  She  looked  older  than  her 
twenty-four  years,  but  a  beautiful  sort  of  woman  of 
whom  he  could  not  help  being  proud. 

"  If  you  will  be  serious  I  shall  stand  it,  because  I  can 
look  at  you  and  think  how  lovely  you  are."  He  put  the 
tips  of  his  white  fingers  together. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  realize  that  I  cannot  give  up  my 
girlhood  and  my  womanhood  to  you  —  just  trot  round 
half  engaged  and  half  not  engaged,  wearing  your  ring 
and  never  being  able  to  say  when  I'm  to  be  married.  I 
should  think  you  would  want  to  be  married,"  she  added 
rather  rudely.  "  What  will  you  be  twenty  years  from 
now?  A  lonely  old  man  in  a  lonely  old  hotel " 

"No;  a  mummy,"  he  corrected,  chuckling. 

"  Your  humor  is  out  of  place.  The  whole  thing  is 
this  —  I  shall  not  keep  on  knowing  you  unless  we  are 
engaged." 

She  bit  her  under  lip  as  she  spoke,  for  she  hated  these 
scenes  as  much  as  Rex  did;  they  always  seemed  to  Sally 
"  so  unfair  to  have  to  have  "  —  she  could  not  see  why 
he  did  not  settle  the  question  properly,  as  Dean  Ladd- 
barry  would  have  done. 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  he  answered,  to  her  surprise; 
"  but  I  could  never  make  you  happy  —  I'm  beastly  set 
in  my  ways,  and  you'd  better  wait.  At  thirty  you  will 
pick  out  a  duke  —  and  then  give  an  old  pal  a  thought, 
won't  you?  " 

"  What  duke  will  pick  me  out  at  thirty?  With  every- 
one saying,  '  She  has  loved  Rex  Humberstone  for  over 
ten  years,  and  he  never  wanted  to  marry  her  —  just  mo- 
nopolize her  I  '  Sally  turned  her  face  away  from  him. 

220 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Ahem !  Stormy  weather,  mates ;  very  stormy 
weather !  Here,  Sally,  all  the  time  you've  been  rag- 
ging me  I  had  this  in  my  pocket."  He  drew  out  a 
white  kid  case  in  which  was  a  handsome  sapphire  pin. 

Sally's  eyes  sparkled  as  she  spied  it.  "  What  is  this 
for?"  She  could  not  refrain  from  adding:  "  Breach- 
of-promise  present?  " 

"  A  splendid  way  to  thank  a  chap,"  he  drawled,  laugh- 
ing at  her  impertinence.  "No;  just  a  reminder  that 
nothing  is  too  good  for  you,  and  therefore  I  am  not  good 
enough!  Come  on,  pal,  put  it  on  your  lace  collar  and 
give  us  a  smile.  Haven't  I  earned  it?  " 

"  I'd  rather  be  engaged,"  she  protested.  Then  she 
gave  a  sharp  exclamation.  "  It  is  hideous  to  have  to 
talk  this  way  to  a  man!  My  mother  never  mentioned 
such  things  first." 

"  I  can  quite  believe  it,"  he  sneered. 

Sally  turned  on  him  in  indignation.  "  You  don't  like 
mummy  because  she  is  old-fashioned  and  has  ideals. 
But  she  is  worth  ten  of  you  or  I.  Only  I  have  disap- 
pointed her,  and  now  it  is  too  late.  We  all  disappointed 
her,  so  she  went  to  find  her  own  salvation.  For  one,  I 
say  she  was  right.  She  has  made  a  success  in  spite  of 
us,  Rex;  not  because  of  us." 

"  She's  a  clever  woman,"  he  applauded  sardonically. 
"  I'm  sure  I  never  said  otherwise." 

"  She  is  more  than  clever  —  she  is  good."  Sally  was 
thoughtful,  her  great  gold  eyes  watching  the  fire  crackle. 
"  But  everything  seems  changing.  Here  is  father  mak- 
ing an  idiot  of  himself  over  Iris  Starr,  and  mummy 
knows  it.  Fancy  preferring  that  inane  old  doll  with  a 
professional  smile  and  a  flock  of  bangle  bracelets  to 
mummy.  And  there's  Harriet  growing  more  like  a  ma- 
chine and  less  like  a  human  being.  Sometime  she'll 

221 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

wake  up  and  find  herself  turned  into  a  typewriter  or  a 
filing  cabinet!"  Sally  laughed  at  her  own  nonsense. 
Her  sense  of  humor  invariably  tripped  in  to  rescue  her 
from  the  depths.  "  And  Ken  has  downy  lips,  and  his 
voice  is  a  soprano  one  moment  and  a  basso  profundo  the 
next.  .Poor  old  Ken,  he's  going  to  have  a  chance  to 
benefit  from  our  mistakes.  He  says  he  is  going  to  be 
a  soldier  —  a  captain,  if  you  please.  I  think  he  wants 
to  wage  war  on  all  flat  dwellers! '" 

"  Aha,  we're  ourselves  again." 

Rex  was  delighted.  His  nerves  gave  warning  when- 
ever Sally  had  a  scene.  He  might  have  called  it 
conscience  but  he  had  long  preferred  the  other  name. 

"How  do  you  really  make  all  your  money?"  she 
asked  abruptly. 

"  Gambling  with  someone's  else  money,"  he  an- 
swered lazily.  He  usually  told  her  the  truth  about 
business  because  he  knew  he  could  trust  her. 

"  That  isn't  right." 

"  Right  things  never  interested  me." 

Sally  was  silent.  She  was  also  admitting  another  hu- 
miliating thing  —  that  she  was  consumed  with  strange 
jealousy  concerning  his  past  life,  she  wanted  to  know 
everything  that  had  transpired;  she  felt  herself  on  a 
level  with  the  woman  who  goes  through  her  husband's 
pockets  while  he  sleeps.  Yet  the  thwarted  heart  of  her 
was  bound  to  have  an  outlet,  and  since  she  had  made 
Rex  the  sum  total  of  her  existence  she  was  forced  to 
expend  her  energy  upon  him  in  some  direction.  Jeal- 
ousy at  best  is  a  humiliating  trait  —  and  to  Sally, 
naturally  without  it,  it  was  an  acquired  one  and  there- 
fore twice  as  vivid  in  its  effects.  She  was  jealous  of 
this  blase  man  of  the  world  who  had  psychically  stolen 
her  youth  and  held  her  apart  from  her  own  kind. 

222 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Presently  she  gave  up  trying  to  pin  Rex  down  to  any- 
thing definite,  and  in  abandonment  became  unnaturally 
hilarious,  thereby  making  Rex  feel  that  Sally's  gay  mo- 
ments were  worth  having  to  stand  for  the  rough  ones, 
for  she  was  the  best  tonic  of  which  he  knew,  and  she 
was  as  pretty  as  the  day  he  had  first  met  her. 


223 


XXI 

When  Sally  Plummer  returned  from  the  country-club 
trip  the  afternoon  Rex  Humberstone  gave  her  the  sap- 
phire pin  she  found  her  mother  and  a  secondhand  man 
going  over  the  flat  and  making  notations  of  articles  and 
prices. 

After  the  man  left,  Densie  said  briefly,  "  I've  decided 
to  move  into  the  King's  Court  Apartments;  I  cannot  neg- 
lect the  flat  and  I  have  no  time  to  take  care  of  it." 

"Those  are  horribly  expensive  places!"  Sally's  eyes 
were  wide  open. 

"  I  know,  but  I've  been  appointed  district  suffrage 
leader  and  it  pay^a  fair  wage.  With  my  exchange  I 
can  manage  the  rent  myself." 

"  How  in  the  world  will  you  have  time  for  the  ex- 
change? " 

"  I've  a  manager,  a  woman  who  needed  the  work." 
Densie  could  have  added :  "  A  woman  such  as  I  was  a 
few  years  ago  —  with  cabin  fever."  But  she  only  ex- 
plained: "  She  will  take  complete  charge.  I've  come  to 
see  that  I  cannot  have  a  flat  and  a  business  too.  Har- 
riet is  never  with  us,  and  you  and  daddy  are  away  much 
of  the  time." 

"  Will  you   sell  everything?  " 

"  Yes,  I  want  something  modern.  I've  a  decorator  in 
mind  who  can  do  the  apartment  for  me;  he  did  my 
exchange.  I  shall  be  entertaining  a  little,  you  see." 

Sally  was  rather  amazed.  This  seemed  a  new  and 
strange  mummy.  She  did  not  know  that  Densie  ex- 

224 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

pectecf  John  to  ask  for  a  divorce,  and  she  planned  on 
the  apartment  as  her  permanent  home. 

"  How  many  rooms  are  there?  " 

"  Five  —  and  a  kitchenette.  We  can  get  our  dinners 
where  we  like;  I  shall  have  a  light  breakfast  in  the  living 


room." 


Densie  was  businesslike  as  she  spoke.  She  did  not 
ask  Sally  if  she  approved  or  as  to  her  views.  Sally 
could  not  but  recall  the  day  they  moved  into  the  flat  and 
Densie  had  been  so  eager  to  please  everyone  else  first 
and  herself  last  of  all. 

"  I'm  sure  it  will  be  very  nice,"  she  mentioned  meekly. 
She  lingered  about  as  her  mother  looked  through  a  pile 
of  books.  "  I'm  —  I'm  very  tired  of  not  doing  some- 
thing," she  said  wistfully;  she  was  regretting  the  breach 
that  had  come  between  them. 

"  Why  don't  you  do  something?  "  Densie  asked  hope- 
fully. "  It  is  not  too  late  to  forget  Hfex.  I  had  a  letter 
from  Dean  this  morning;  he  sent  you  his  love  and  he  is 
doing  very  well." 

Sally  shook  her  head.  "  I  can't  forget  Rex.  He 
isn't  the  sort  that  lets  himself  be  forgotten.  Mummy, 
what  got  into  me  four  years  ago?" 

"  I  don't  know,  dear;  I  tried  to  find  out,  but  your 
heart  seemed  to  just  lock  itself  up  and  we  were  stran- 
gers." 

Sally  came  and  laid  her  head  on  her  mother's  shoulder. 
"Do  you  think  Rex  will  ever  marry  me?"  She  was 
like  a  disconsolate  child. 

To  her  horrified  surprise  Densie  felt  a  bewildered 
impatience  —  as  John  used  to  feel  when  some  of  these 
"  woman  "  things  strayed  into  his  path.  Like  John  she 
wanted  to  take  her  hat  and  go  downtown! 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  repeated;  "  I  have  hardly  seen 

225 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Rex,  and  I  have  steeled  myself  to  indifference." 
Vaguely  she  patted  Sally's  hair.  "  Why  don't  you  go 
away  —  go  visit  Harriet?  She  might  be  good  for  you 
at  this  time.  Harriet  has  the  poise  and  power  you  need, 
and  she  needs  your  sweetness  and  gayety.  Stay  with  her 
a  few  weeks  and  find  yourself." 

It  seemed  to  Densie  this  was  the  best  way  out  of  the 
matter.  Yet  underneath  the  coating  of  ice  flowed  the 
swift  warm  current  of  her  heart  —  only  she  had  kept 
the  ice  as  a  shield  against  any  further  assaults! 

"  Perhaps  I  will  —  I  do  need  someone.  Would  you 
mind  if  I  went  now,  mummy?  There's  the  mov- 
ing " 

"  Go  to-night,"  said  Densie  as  unconcernedly  as  John 
might  have  been.  "  I  shan't  do  any  work  about  the 
moving,  it  is  being  done  for  me." 

Sally  hesitated  still  further.  "  Of  course,  I  haven't 
been  doing  much  work  lately  —  not  as  much  as  I  ought 
to  have  done,  and " 

"Is  it  money?"  Densie  smiled.  She  had  learned 
that  money  was  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  both  to 
earn  and  to  give.  She  went  to  her  desk  and  wrote  a 
check.  "  Now,  run  along  and  get  your  ticket  —  and 
don't  come  home  until  you  have  found  how  wrong  it  is 
to  waste  yourself  on  a  man  who  neither  wants  nor  de- 
serves you." 

The  sensible  advice  might  have  been  snapped  out  by  a 
bank  president  to  his  erring  cashier.  They  seemed  for- 
eign words  coming  from  Densie's  small,  gentle  self. 

Inspired  by  the  idea,  Sally  obeyed,  and  after  a  little 
more  sorting  out  of  things  Densie  went  down  to  the 
decorator's  establishment. 

Before  Sally  left  for  New  York  —  she  did  not  go 
for  three  days  because  she  could  not  resist  telling  Rex 

226 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

that  it  was  to  be  a  farewell  and  then  accepting  his  good- 
by  dinner  —  the  flat  had  been  rented  and  the  decorators 
were  busy  at  the  new  apartment.  It  was  known  as  Mrs. 
Densie  Plummer's  apartment,  which  John  noted  in  grim 
but  helpless  disapproval.  Iris  Starr  also  noted  it  and 
took  pains  to  impress  on  him  his  extreme  manliness  and 
her  extreme  dependency. 

While  Sally  was  away  the  Pkimmers  moved  into  the 
smart,  expensive  apartment  —  one  of  the  best  in  the 
city,  and  renting  for  a  hundred  a  month.  It  consisted 
of  a  living  room  in  old  rose  and  gray  with  French  prints 
and  silvered  firedogs  and  floor  cushions  of  black  velvet. 
It  was  not  at  all  homelike  but  distinctly  clever,  there  was 
no  denying  that.  A  baby-grand  player  replaced  the  old 
ebonized  upright,  and  Densie's  desk,  a  curlicue-legged, 
rosewood  affair,  was  the  busiest-looking  spot  in  the  room, 
heaped  with  correspondence  and  all  manner  of  memoran- 
dums, while  a  rose-shaded  reading  lamp  stood  close  at 
hand.  The  only  live  thing  in  the  room  was  a  globe  of 
goldfish,  so  Kenneth  mournfully  remarked. 

The  bedrooms  were  equally  clever  —  Sally's  in  pink, 
and  John's  and  Kenneth's  in  severe  arts  and  crafts,  while 
Densie  blossomed  forth  in  French  blue  and  gold  with 
Empire  furniture  finished  in  dull  ivory.  The  arrange- 
ments for  breakfast  were  smothered  in  the  kitchenette 
and  allowed  to  come  forth  only  during  the  brief  respite 
of  coffee  and  toast  making,  and  a  vacuum  cleaner  was 
hastily  rolled  over  stray  crumbs,  the  janitor's  wife  doing 
the  dishes. 

Nor  did  Densie's  moving  end  with  a  change  of  house 
and  furnishings.  Smart  wearing  apparel  was  her  next 
step  in  advance.  She  saw  that  as  president  of  the  feder- 
ation and  suffrage  leader  she  must  be  properly  gowned. 
As  owner  of  the  exchange  a  quaint  dress  was  quite  the 

227 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

thing,  but  that  would  no  longer  do.  Sally's  wardrobe 
fell  behind  in  comparison  with  her  mother's.  Trim  rows 
of  boots  and  slippers,  silk  stockings  and  underwear,  very 
short  and  fluffy  gowns,  hats  with  French  labels,  and  a 
good  brooch  and  a  string  of  white  coral,  with  the  con- 
stant aid  of  curling  irons  and  Madame  Somebody's 
astringent  cream  and  vanishing  power  soon  transformed 
John  Plummer's  wife  into  Mrs.  Densie  Plummer,  one 
of  our  most  prominent  clubwomen,  as  the  papers  gra- 
ciously began  to  call  her. 

When  Kenneth  came  into  the  apartment  from  skating, 
one  day  after  the  removal,  and  saw  his  mother  dressed 
for  some  evening  affair,  in  a  Chinese  blue-satin  creation 
with  a  petunia-colored  cape  for  contrast  and  gold-tinsel 
slippers,  the  pretty  brown  hair  properly  fluffed  and  her 
newly  manicured  hands  buttoning  long  white  gloves,  he 
fell  into  a  chair  and  let  his  skates  drop  recklessly  on  the 
new  rose  rug. 

"  All  you  need  is  a  new  husband,"  he  said  in  irrever- 
ent praise. 

At  which  Densie  laughed  and  thought  with  a  quick 
pain  that  the  leaven  had  been  willing,  but  the  lump  was 
heavy!  She  kissed  him  good-by  and  gave  him  a  dollar 
for  his  dinner,  leaving  a  memorandum  for  John  that  she 
would  not  be  home  until  late.  As  she  was  about  to  turn 
off  the  lights  of  the  modern  salon  she  saw  her  charm- 
ing reflection  in  a  mirror  and  felt  the  goodness  of  having 
silken  hose  and  undergarments,  a  properly  modern 
frock,  the  strange  joy  of  having  earned  it  herself — she 
began  to  feel  young,  as  young  as  John  Plummer  felt  when 
Iris  Starr  called  him  her  misunderstood  boy,  and  far 
younger  than  Sally,  who  was  trying  to  find  herself  with 
the  aid  of  Harriet's  statistical  self. 

"  A  new  husband  " —  she  laughed  out  loud  as  she 

228 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

passed  down  the  hall.  What  ideas  youngsters  of  to-day 
had!  Then  she  dismissed  her  family  as  John  used  to  dis- 
miss it  as  he  went  out  of  the  gate  each  morning  —  for 
the  evening  affair  was  one  of  importance  and  she  ex- 
pected to  accomplish  a  great  deal  more  than  was  sus- 
pected for  the  time  being.  Densie  was  the  politician  of 
the  family  these  days! 


229 


XXII 

Sally  at  twenty-five,  dispirited  and  sad  of  heart,  and 
Harriet  at  twenty-seven,  successful  and  impersonal  to- 
ward all  mankind  —  were  a  strange  contrast.  Sally 
looked  forward  to  seeing  Harriet;  she  hoped  the  latter's 
common  sense  would  help  her  through  the  period  of 
anguish  resulting  from  giving  up  Rex.  Like  most  of  her 
fellow  creatures  Sally  was  in  search  of  a  crutch  upon 
which  to  limp  out  of  a  bad  situation.  She  did  not  yet 
realize  that  other  people  cannot  act  as  crutches  in  serious 
matters,  and  she  would  have  to  stand  on  her  own  small 
feet  and  walk  out  quite  unhampered  by  someone  else's 
moral  suasion. 

Harriet  was  as  kind  to  Sally  as  she  knew  how  to  be. 
She  had  so  lived  apart  from  love  affairs  that  to  go  to 
her  for  their  solution  was  like  asking  her  to  decide  the 
advisability  of  the  south  of  China's  compelling  the  north 
of  China  to  become  a  republic  and  to  have  all  their 
males'  cues  cut  off  instanter !  It  was  interestisng  and 
different,  and  she  took  an  impersonal  pleasure  in  hear- 
ing Sally's  jumbled  little  story. 

Leila  Cochrane  had  been  Harriet's  only  human  ele- 
ment; and  Leila,  who  was  nothing  but  an  inane  cling- 
ing vine  "  with  a  baby-blue  smile,"  as  Sally  told  her 
mother,  had  never  had  an  original  idea  in  her  life.  Sally 
had  also  described  the  situation  as:  "Harriet  foots  the 
bills  and  lets  Leila  do  as  she  likes.  Harriet  says  Leila 
mends  her  stockings  and  makes  nice  cinnamon  toast  — 
that  is  as  far  as  their  attraction  goes.  And  Leila  pre- 
230 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

tends  to  understand  all  Harriet's  big  ideas  and  to  copy 
her  in  her  clothes  —  but  underneath  it  all  she  is  a  little 
freckle-faced  fraud !  "  Needless  to  say,  Leila  and  Sally 
did  not  grow  fond  of  each  other,  hence  Sally's  uncom- 
plimentary but  truthful  analysis. 

Sally  found  Harriet  had  a  streak  of  gray  in  her  black 
hair,  premature  gray  from  excessive  study  and  lack  of 
nourishment.  She  wore  an  attractive  sort  of  clothes, 
the  exclusive,  severe,  simple  sort  —  made  "for  people 
who  appreciate  the  Satires  of  Horace,"  was  Sally's  way 
of  describing  her  sister's  wardrobe.  To  Sally's  surprise 
her  sister  owned  a  showy  little-finger  ring,  a  great  fire 
opal  set  in  dull  gold.  Harriet's  vanity  was  asserting 
itself  in  spite  of  her. 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  come  to  buy  it?  "  Sally 
demanded. 

Harriet  almost  blushed.  "  Extra  money  I  earned 
from  committee  work  —  it  appealed  to  me.  I  don't 
know  why." 

Sally  shook  her  finger  at  her.  "  You  will  be  frivolous 
in  spite  of  yourself;  I  remember  when  you  wouldn't  have 
worn  a  gold  safety  pin." 

"  We  change  —  you've  changed.  You're  not  as  gay 
and  shallow  —  something  has  happened  to  your  eyes. 
Let  me  see,"  Harriet's  sober  black  ones  studied  her  sis- 
ter's face  for  a  long  time.  Then  all  she  said  was  a 
brutal,  "  They  look  stabbed." 

Sally's  chin  quivered.  "  I  want  to  ask  you  all  about 
it;  mummy  is  so  busy  and  different  I  can't  ask  her  as  I 
would  have  once." 

'  Tell  me  after  supper." 

Harriet  frowned.  She  had  not  learned  to  give  of 
herself.  To  look  at  some  incident  or  happening  or  re- 
sult of  a  happening  was  interesting,  she  immediately 

231 


analyzed  it  and  made  a  definite  deduction  as  to  its  effects 
being  good  or  bad.  But  to  be  a  sympathizing,  consoling 
element  was  not  within  her  possibilities.  However, 
Sally  was  her  sister  and  it  was  her  duty,  so  she  steeled 
herself  for  the  ordeal. 

Harriet  and  Leila  had  an  attractive  apartment  in  its 
way,  strewn  with  articles  of  good  taste  and  quality. 
Harriet  had  decidedly  patrician  ideas  as  to  her  surround- 
ings. She  spent  her  large  salary  as  fast  as  she  earned 
it,  and  out  of  all  her  earnings  she  had  saved  but  a  paltry 
five  hundred  dollars.  She  paid  more  for  her  clothes 
than  Sally  did.  Sally  would  go  to  a  remnant  sale,  select 
odds  and  ends,  clean,  repaint  even,  or  twist  and  turn  — 
and  lo,  she  had  a  creation.  Harriet  could  not  wield  a 
needle,  her  fingers  were  always  clasped  about  a  book  or 
a  pen,  and  she  bought  lavshiiy  of  what  she  wished  and 
took  no  heed  for  the  morrow.  She  knew  she  had  un- 
usual ability  in  the  direction  of  her  work  and  her  advance- 
ment would  be  steady.  Saving  was  something  that  had 
never  interested  her. 

After  a  formal  supper,  with  Leila  doing  the  dishes 
and  trying  to  catch  a  whisper  as  she  passed  in  and  out, 
Harriet  and  Sally  sat  down  to  talk,  Harriet  like  a  judge 
impartially  awaiting  the  evidence !  It  did  not  take  Sally 
long  to  tell  Harriet  —  one  of  Harriet's  charms  was  her 
keen  way  of  grasping  a  situation;  it  was  like  Aunt  Sally. 

Briefly  Sally  confessed  the  whole  wretched  affair,  end- 
ing with  the  craving  for  a  home  and  children,  to  be  like 
other  girls,  stretching  out  her  little  fingers,  the  diamond 
ring  sparkling  away  in  triumph. 

"  He  is  too  old  for  you,"  began  Harriet  shrewdly. 

At  which  Sally  interrupted  to  say  that  she  did  not 
care  about  age,  she  loved  him,  he  made  her  love  him, 

232 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

but  he  had  stolen  her  girlhood  and  caused  her  to  become 
old  before  her  time.  No  boy  would  ever  love  her  now, 
nor  could  she  love  any  boy. 

"  And  you  don't  think  you've  enough  talent  to  come 
to  New  York  as  an  artist?"  Harriet  said  unwillingly, 
thinking  that  if  Sally  should  come  it  would  be  her  — 
Harriet's  —  duty  to  say  to  Leila  that  her  sister  must  be 
her  comrade  instead  of  Leila.  This  Harriet  did  not 
want  to  do. 

Sally  shook  her  head.  "  I've  lost  my  chance  at  ever 
working.  I've  wasted  my  time  trying  to  tempt  and 
please  Rex.  He's  a  way  of  making  you  stay  concert 
pitch  when  he  is  about.  I  can't  do  anything  but  love 
someone,  Harriet." 

Harriet  frowned.  "  You  are  weak."  She  looked  at 
her  sister  with  characteristic  disapproval.  "  If  your  en- 
vironment had  been  different  you  could  have  been  a 
model  Victorian  wife  —  like  mummy,  all  bows  and 
ruffles,  and  singing  hymns  in  a  meek  little  voice.  Or 
else  you  could  have  been  quite  impossible,  what  we  call 
a  '  borderland  '  girl,  lacking  in  moral  perceptions." 

She  spoke  so  calmly  that  Sally  felt  as  a  butterfly  on  a 
pin,  having  some  scientist  clumsily  point  out  the  spots 
on  the  wings. 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  to  say  —  I'm  not  up  on 
romance.  It  seems  to  me  you  are  to  blame  and  you 
ought  to  buck  up  and  never  see  or  think  of  him  any 
more." 

"  That  would  be  easy  for  you  to  do,"  ventured  Sally, 
quite  discouraged. 

'  Why  marry,  anyway?  An  inane  maze  in  which  you 
have  an  awful  time  wandering  about!  " 

233 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Because  it  was  what  I  was  meant  for,"  said  little 
Sally   simply.     "  I  had  my  foolish   ideas  when  I   was 


twenty,  but  I  know  myself  now 

She  was  thinking  of  Dean  Laddbarry  and  the  time  he 
asked  her  to  marry  him;  not  that  she  loved  him,  but  she 
wished  she  had  never  known  this  sinister,  fascinating  Rex. 
Perhaps  she  might  have  cared  for  Dean  instead,  and 
everyone  been  happy.  She  saw  that  Harriet  could  not 
understand,  just  as  Sally  could  not  understand  why 
Harriet  wanted  to  write  an  economic  history  of  the 
United  States. 

"  Anyway,  Sally,  you  ought  to  do  something  —  you 
must  not  be  dependent  on  father." 

Sally  laughed.  "  My  dear  Hariet,  father  and  mother 
are  changing  places.  Mummy  is  the  man  of  the  family, 
she  tends  to  paying  the  bills  and  father  spends  his  money 
on  himself." 

"  That's  an  inducement  to  come  home,"  Harriet  said 
crisply. 

'  We've  a  swagger  apartment,  and  mummy  has  or- 
dered enough  clothes  to  go  round  the  world  in." 

Harriet  folded  her  arms  across  her  chest  in  an  approv- 
ing, judicial  manner. 

"Good  work!  So  poor  old  father  goes  his  own 
way  —  eh?  " 

"  He  is  rather  gone  on  Iris  Starr.  An  amusing  per- 
son—  we  call  her  mutton  dressed  as  spring  lamb;  she 
is  an  elocutionist  who  would  like  to  marry  father  only 
father  shies  at  a  divorce." 

The  two  modern  daughters  giggled  wickedly  over  the 
situation. 

"Won't  mummy  say  the  word  release?" 

"I  think  so;  it  is  father.     After  all,  they're  of  the 

234 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

old  regime.  They  can  go  just  so  far  and  that  is  all  — 
but  mummy  has  come  on  considerably." 

"  Why  not  a  divorce?" 

"  Harriet,  it  wouldn't  seem  right."  Sally  was  un- 
decided as  to  just  why  it  would  not. 

"  Nonsense !  Everyone  would  be  better  off.  I  be- 
lieve in  marriage  contracts." 

"  How  far  we've  gotten  from  the  old  ways  of  the 
Little  House,"  said  Sally  pensively.  "  It  is  an  odd 
thing,  but  whenever  I've  been  unhappy  about  Rex  I've 
always  thought  back  to  those  days.  Do  you  remember 
the  library  with  hundreds  of  books  no  one  read,  the 
piano,  the  picture  —  that  little  one  of  the  Christ  Child 
that  we  had  to  stand  underneath  while  we  said  our  Bible 
verses  every  Sunday  morning?  " 

"No,  I  don't." 

Harriet  was  beginning  to  be  bored,  was  Sally  going 
to  develop  a  sentimental  strain? 

Sally  saw  her  change  in  attitude.  She  rose,  saying, 
"  Poor  Leila  has  been  scullery  maid  all  alone." 

"  I  hope  you  find  plenty  to  do  and  see  here  —  and 
just  don't  think  of  him  is  the  best  advice  I  know,"  Har- 
riet concluded.  "If  you  can't  paint  good  pictures  learn 
to  trim  hats  or  do  something  so  as  to  make  a  living  and 
be  independent  of  every  one  and  everybody.  By  the 
way,  how  is  young  Ken?  " 

"  Smokes  openly,  and  still  plans  to  be  Captain  Jinks 
of  the  Horse  Marines  —  Ken  is  a  side  issue  nowadays, 
with  the  folks." 

"  Don't  think  about  him,"  ended  any  counsel  and  ad- 
vice from  Harriet.  She  had  a  scorn  for  Sally's  weak- 
ness in  the  matter,  because  she  could  not  understand  it. 
She  took  her  diligently  to  the  theater  and  dinner,  with 
Leila  tagging  enviously  along;  she  tried  to  interest  her 

235 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

in  her  work  and  introduced  her  to  some  co-workers.  But 
Sally  was  too  pretty  and  frivolous  to  suit  them  or  be 
suited  by  them.  All  the  time  was  the  intense  longing 
for  Rex,  the  fear  that  he  would  be  angry  at  her  for  hav- 
ing gone  away  and  saying  she  would  not  write,  the  same 
servile  adoration  for  him;  which  was  neither  healthy 
nor  normal.  That  fear  of  all  beautiful  women  born 
to  love  and  be  loved  had  gripped  Sally's  heart  —  an 
old  maid!  An  unwanted  or,  worse  still,  rejected  spin- 
ster! She  fought  the  phantom  nightly  when  she  tried 
to  sleep  in  Harriet's  cot-bed  arrangement,  which  was 
placed  halfway  into  the  kitchenette  and  halfway  into  the 
hall  —  such  was  New  York  Bohemian  existence ! 

After  all,  finally  argued  Sally  with  her  usual  sophistry, 
was  it  not  better  to  have  Rex's  love  cruelly  repressed  and 
incomplete  as  it  was,  than  to  have  nothing,  as  Harriet's 
life  seemed  to  be  —  flat  and  devoid  of  interest?  Every- 
one coupled  their  names  together;  no  one  else  dreamed 
of  Sally  Plummer's  looking  at  another  man  —  nor  could 
she.  There  was  only  Rex,  no  matter  how  much  older 
he  was  or  how  lacking  in  fulfilling  his  obligations.  At 
least  everyone  thought  she  was  engaged  —  she  could  say 
it  was  this  or  that  which  prevented  marriage,  and  try, 
try  harder  than  ever  to  make  Rex  want  to  marry  her, 
and  at  the  same  time  try  to  find  some  satisfying  work. 
So  the  old  strand  of  deceit,  of  which  Rex  was  sponsor, 
came  unworthily  to  her  rescue. 

She  wrote  Rex  a  contrite  and  appealing  letter  with  a 
few  smart  sayings  purporting  to  be  original  but  which 
she  had  copied  from  a  short  story.  Rex  liked  her  to 
say  clever  things.  He  despised  the  old  homely  method 
of  bromidic  conversation  such  as  "  I  love  you  "  or  "  I 
miss  you."  It  must  be  dished  up  like  a  sweetheart 
a  la  brochette  to  suit  his  jaded  humor. 

236 


To  her  great  joy  Rex  wired  he  was  coming  to  New 
York  on  business  and  he  was  making  the  business  en- 
gagement suit  her  visit  there;  he  would  arrive  the  next 
morning.  She  told  Harriet  with. as  much  gladness  as 
if  she  were  going  to  be  married.  The  effect  of  the  old 
stimulus  was  surprising.  Harriet's  thin  scarlet  mouth 
curved  in  scorn. 

"  You  are  as  weak  as  a  child!  It  is  just  as  well  you 
don't  marry  and  have  children,  for  you  could  not  give 
them  any  proper  mental  or  moral  inheritance.  I  be- 
lieve you  planned  this  visit  all  along.  Now  didn't 
you?" 

Which  so  angered  Sally  that  she  scarcely  spoke  to  Har- 
riet during  the  remainder  of  her  stay.  Rex  arrived  as 
debonair  and  attentive  as  ever.  He  said  New  York 
suited  Sally,  she  needed  a  city  with  its  purportedly  beau- 
tiful women  to  prove  how  wonderful  she  was.  He  met 
Harriet  with  overpowering  politeness  and  veiled  con- 
tempt. Harriet  regarded  him  as  "  a  strong  charac- 
ter —  no  wonder  a  jellyfish  like  Sally  can't  have  her 
way  with  him."  That  ended  Harriet's  interest  in  the 
affair.  In  her  quiet  fashion  Leila  Cochrane  thought 
enviously  of  Sally,  that  she  was  a  lucky  girl  to  be  engaged 
to  such  a  generous  handsome  man  of  the  world,  even  if 
she  had  been  engaged  a  long  time  and  was  likely  to 
continue  in  the  same  state. 

Sally  and  Rex  did  theaters  and  cafes  and  had  a  general 
good  time,  in  which  Harriet  did  not  offer  to  participate. 
Harriet  did  not  care  for  anything  except  Ibsen  or  an 
occasional  symphony  concert.  After  a  week  of  riotous 
times  Sally  went  home  ahead  of  Rex,  knowing  that  she 
had  defeated  the  very  purpose  of  the  vacation  her 
mother  had  given  her  —  that  she  was  even  more  depend- 
ent on  Rex  than  before. 

237 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  saw  the  truth  of  this  at  once  —  she  had  heard 
Rex  Humberstone  had  gone  to  New  York.  Whereas  a 
few  years  ago  she  would  have  packed  her  bag  and  fol- 
lowed to  argue  with  Sally,  now  she  only  smiled  bitterly 
and  reminded  herself  that  modern  children  permit  no 
interference  in  their  affairs,  one  must  let  them  alone  and 
watch  them  grapple  unaided  with  the  brambles. 

"Oh,  so  Rex  came,  did  he?"  was  all  she  said. 

"  Yes,  he  had  business  —  and  I  wanted  him,"  Sally 
told  her  honestly.  "  How  lovely  this  room  is,  mummy, 
and  what  a  charming  negligee!  You  seem  a  girl  in  it. 
How  in  the  world  did  you  hit  on  this  scheme  —  doesn't 
daddy  approve?  " 

"  He  is  fairly  comfortable.     Tell  me  about  Harriet." 

"  She  is  coming  up  to  see  you.  She  thinks  you're  a 
wonder."  Sally  was  watching  her  mother  discreetly 
powder  her  nose  and  slip  on  some  rings.  "  You  have 
been  successful,  haven't  you?" 

"  A  little.  There  is  a  letter  from  Dean.  He  sent 
you  a  message." 

Densie  pointed  out  the  envelope.  Underneath  the 
ice  coating  the  warm  current  of  her  mother  heart  was 
fairly  rushing  out  to  Sally! 

Sally  picked  it  up  unwillingly,  she  dreaded  reading  the 
frank,  earnest  sentences.  She  was  beginning  to  shrink 
from  contrasts. 

"  Odd  that  he  writes  to  you,  isn't  it?  " 

"  I'm  next  best  to  Sally,  is  Dean's  logic.  Here  is  my 
gown  for  the  luncheon  —  like  it?  Help  me  fasten  the 
side." 

Densie  had  slipped  on  something  that  was  like  a  gray 
cloud  with  sunset  showing  underneath.  Obediently  Sally 
laid  the  letter  aside  and  hooked  the  frock. 

"  It  is  lovely,"  was  all  she  said. 

238 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  found  her  outer  wraps.  "  I  shan't  be  in  all 
afternoon  —  and  I'm  having  my  committee  on  the  penny- 
luncheon  fund  in  for  coffee  this  evening.  Your  father 
will  not  be  at  home."  She  smiled  faintly.  "  I've  a 
theater  ticket  for  Kenneth.  If  you  would  like  to  help 
serve  I'll  be  glad  to  have  you."  She  spoke  easily,  as  if 
it  mattered  very  little  whether  or  not  Sally  stayed. 

"  I  think,  I'll  go  to  my  room,  mummy;  I'm  tired." 

"  All  right  —  as  you  wish.  Now  I'm  off."  She  took 
up  her  silver  purse.  "  So  you've  not  decided  anything 
new  as  to  Rex,"  she  could  not  keep  from  adding. 
"  Sally,  you've  the  lines  about  your  eyes  that  belong  to 
my  age  —  not  yours !  " 

"  I've  decided  to  make  the  best  of  it.  I'd  rather  be 
unhappy  loving  Rex  than  to  be  unhappy  not  loving 
him  —  and  he  has  his  good  qualities.  I  can't  seem  to 
say  what  they  are,  but  he  has.  It's  a  modern  sort  of 
arrangement;  perhaps  it  isn't  so  wicked,  after  all.  Any- 
way, I  cannot  give  him  up  —  and  I  tried." 

"  For  three  weeks,"  Densie  supplemented. 

"I  tried!"  Sally  cried  out  shrilly.  "It  is  just  my 
form  of  a  cross,  perhaps,  to  love  the  wrong  man;  and  I 
won't  hear  another  word  about  it." 

"  Very  well."  Densie  was  the  impersonal,  successful 
business  and  club  woman.  It  was  she  who  closed  a  door 
in  one's  face.  "  As  for  your  expenses,  I'll  pay  them  un- 
til you  decide  what  you  want  to  do.  But  you  shall  not 
be  a  slug,  even  if  you  do  love  the  wrong  man." 

"  I'll  earn  my  living!  "  her  child  told  her,  white  with 
anger  —  not  at  her  mother,  though  it  seemed  so,  but  at 
her  own  wayward  self.  "  I'll  earn  it  by  doing  some- 
thing that  won't  disgrace  Mrs.  Densie  Plummer,  presi- 
dent of  the  state  federation !  " 

Left  to  herself  Sally  c*M   read  Dean's  jolly  whole- 

239 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

souled  letter  breathing  of  activity  and  success  and  end- 
ing with:  "  Tell  Sally  I've  no  other  girl's  picture  in  my 
watch,  but  when  she  decides  the  date  of  her  wedding 
I'll  send  her  the  best  set  of  baskets  the  Washoe  tribe  can 
make.  I  won't  promise  to  take  the  picture  out  of  my 
watch  —  unless  she  says  I  must.  She's  a  good-hearted 
little  tyrant  and  will  allow  me  that  much  even  if  I  did 
lose  the  original!  " 

She  crumpled  up  the  letter,  wishing  she  had  not  read 
it.  She  hated  herself  —  the  new  artificial  way  of  living; 
the  apartment  seemed  stuffy  and  inadequate.  She  felt 
if  she  were  a  little  girl  in  proper  white  aprons  over 
tartan-plaid  wool  frocks,  saying  her  Bible  verses  un- 
derneath the  picture  of  the  Child,  if  she  could  turn  back 
the  hourglass  until  then  —  that  she  would  grow  up  lov- 
ing Dean.  Men  like  Rex  never  find  the  way  to  Little 
Houses;  their  feet  choose  other  trails. 


240 


During  the  next  year  John  and  Densie  came  to  the 
understanding  that  when  Kenneth  was  twenty-one  they 
would  get  a  divorce  so  John  could  marry  Iris.  Each 
felt  a  reticency  to  do  so  beforehand.  When  the  boy 
was  of  age  their  joint  responsibility  as  parents  would  be 
ended,  according  to  law.  That  would  be  five  more 
years.  And  though  John  thought  of  Iris  and  waxed 
impatient  as  he  did  so,  and  Densie  thought  of  her  own 
plan  to  live  abroad  —  each  found  a  certain  relief  in  de- 
laying the  evil  day. 

''  When  people  marry  in  love  and  harmony  in  the 
sight  of  God  and  man,  and  that  harmony  disappears," 
John  had  argued,  "  the  marriage  has  disappeared,  and 
the  legal  contract  alone  remains  in  the  sight  of  man." 

Densie  had  agreed.  She  was  sitting  in  the  living 
room  waiting  for  a  cab  to  take  her  to  a  meeting.  "  I 
appreciate  your  viewpoint;  we  are  no  longer  essential 
to  each  other  or  the  children.  Our  lives  are  in  different 
channels.  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you  " —  here  the  un- 
dercurrent flowed  very  swiftly,  so  much  so  that  it  caused 
a  flush  to  show  in  her  face;  "  I  could  never  bear  to  have 
an  ugly,  inharmonious  ending." 

"  Densie,"  he  said  softly,  "  that  could  never  be.  I 
shall  always  respect  you  —  always.  You  are  the  chil- 
dren's mother.  And  you  were  my  little  sister  before 
you  were  my  wife.  I  could  never  think  of  you  with 
anything  but  the  same  love  I  had  for  you  when  we 
were  children.  I  don't  understand  how  it  has  all  come 

241 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

about;  I  truly  wish  it  had  not.     But  I  am  no  longer  the 
man  for  you " 

"  Which  always  means  '  I  am  not  the  woman  for 
you !  '  Well,  perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is.  I  could  never 
return  to  the  old  drudgery  of  a  home.  You  were  im- 
patient of  it  long  before  I  was.  And  so  we  have  out- 
lived our  usefulness  to  each  other." 

'  You  have  been  generous  about  expenses,"  he  said 
almost  shamedly. 

"  And  so  I  should  be.  I  wished  for  certain  things  — 
clothes,  furniture,  club  positions;  I  made  my  own  money 
my  own  way  and  you  never  questioned  my  right  to  do 
so.  I  could  not  think  of  asking  you  to  bear  my  expenses 
from  now  on.  Use  your  salary  as  it  pleases  you." 

"  Mighty  decent,"  he  mumbled,  the  old  method  of 
one  purse  in  the  household  occurring  to  him  for  some 
damnable  reason.  "  What  do  you  think  will  become 
of  our  children?  We  shall  always  have  that  common 
interest." 

"  Harriet  will  never  marry.  She  is  not  the  problem. 
It  is  Sally  who  has  given  her  heart  to  a  worthless  man. 
Unless  she  reclaims  it  —  she  is  doomed." 

"And  Kenneth?"  he  asked.  "I've  never  grown 
close  enough  to  him  to  read  the  handwriting  on  the  wall." 

"  I  want  Kenneth  to  be  in  the  Army,"  she  said  proudly. 
"  He  must  make  up  for  his  sisters'  lacks." 

"  Captain  Jinks  —  is  that  the  idea?" 

The  bell  rang  and  John  answered. 

"  It  is  your  cab,"  he  said  politely. 

"  Oh,  thank  you."     She  put  on  her  coat. 

"  Have  you  ever  thought,"  he  asked  gently,  "  what 
Aunt  Sally  and  Uncle  Herbert  would  say  if  they  had 
been  here  just  now  as  eavesdroppers?  " 

Densie's   face  dimpled.     "  I   know  what  they  would 

242 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

do  —  the  old  remedy  they  used  when  you  copied  Bar- 
ney's swearing  and  I  contradicted  Ellen  Porch  —  a  good 
mouth  wash  of  quinine !  " 

John  chuckled.  "  About  right,"  he  answered,  open- 
ing the  door  politely.  After  she  had  gone,  never  asking 
as  to  his  plans,  he  sat  for  a  long  time  and  wondered 
whether  people  these  days  were  "  bigger  fools  than  they 
looked  or  looked  bigger  fools  than  they  were!  " 

Iris  was  enraged  over  the  delay,  but  too  clever  to  be 
anything  but  purportedly  shy  and  grieved  about  it  and 
to  make  John  regard  her  as  a  sprite  which  would  vanish 
if  anything  was  said  or  done  to  hurt  her  feelings.  Be- 
sides, John  could  loan  her  money  —  particularly  now 
that  his  wife  had  agreed  to  free  him  after  Kenneth  was 
of  age.  And  money  was  Mrs.  Starr's  large  idea  of 
happiness.  After  a  few  pensive  tears  and  sighs  upon 
hearing  the  news,  and  the  mournfully  counting  off  the 
years,  she  borrowed  another  hundred  and  made  John  a 
club  sandwich  while  they  talked  about  their  future  like 
two  eloping  school  children. 

At  the  club  meeting  that  evening  Densie  read  two  brief 
but  clever  little  papers.  One  was  called  The  Passing  of 
the  Woodshed  and  the  Fence,  a  slightly  satirical  skit  on 
changing  conditions  with  a  sting  of  truthful  reproach  in 
it.  The  other  she  named  Cabin  Fever,  after  the  Wes- 
terners' method  of  expressing  mental  malady  resulting 
from  continued  isolation.  Housewives,  she  explained, 
all  had  spells  of  cabin  fever,  clubs  were  an  antidote,  the 
women  of  America  had  long  been  a  prey  to  cabin  fever, 
and  she  ended  with  an  appeal  for  women  to  step  outside 
their  thresholds  and  become  attuned  with  the  present 
generation. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  meeting  someone  touched  her 
on  the  arm. 

243 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Senator  James  Gleason  wishes  to  meet  you.  He 
was  our  honor  guest  to-night,  but  he  came  late,  so  you 
did  not  notice  him." 

Densie  crossed  the  room  to  the  small  boyish-looking 
man  in  immaculate  evening  dress.  He  had  wavy  white 
hair,  combed  pompadour  fashion,  and  dark  eyes  with 
a  keen  expression.  Altogether  he  was  a  refined  little 
person,  his  head  two  sizes  too  big  for  his  body.  He 
held  out  his  hand  cordially  as  she  came  near. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  that  cabin  fever  happens  to  sena- 
tors, as  well,"  he  began  simply;  "  but  I  think  you  ought 
to  have  another  paper  on  cures  for  it,  don't  you?  " 

He  just  naturally  led  the  way  to  an  isolated  corner; 
and  being  Madame  President  and  the  senator  the  oth- 
ers respectfully  let  them  alone. 

His  keen  eyes  kept  studying  her  face.  She  liked 
him  —  he  had  a  gentle,  firm  voice  and  his  movements 
indicated  deliberation  and  poise.  He  made  her  feel  at 
ease  instantly  and  the  only  thing  that  puzzled  her  was 
how  with  his  endowment  of  qualities  and  his  rather 
visionary  ideas  he  had  ever  fought  his  way  up  in  politics. 
She  had  heard  of  him  before  as  being  interested  in 
women's  clubs  and  philanthropic  reforms,  and  she  re- 
called a  rumor  that  he  was  a  very  rich  widower.  As 
he  talked  she  began  to  feel  a  direct  interest  in  him,  and 
she  found  herself  telling  him  informal  ideas  that  she 
had  evolved  during  her  presidency. 

'You  own  the  Woman's  Exchange,  don't  you?"  he 
asked;  "  where  you  can  buy  homemade  things?  " 

'  Yes,  but  I  have  it  managed  for  me  —  I  haven't  the 
time.  The  homemade  things  are  the  work  of  cabin- 
fever  victims!  " 

"  I'm  going  to  lunch  there  to-morrow,"  he  continued 
eagerly.  "  I  wonder  if  you  couldn't  manage  to  drop 

244 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

in  at  the  exchange  toward  one  o'clock?  I  want  to  talk 
to  you  about  some  matters  —  first,  business  matters; 
and  then  I'd  like  to  talk  to  you." 

This  would  have  sounded  rather  irrypudent  in  anyone 
else.  Densie  had  been  so  unused  to  the  society  of  men 
that  she  did  not  realize  its  personal  significance.  She 
merely  thought  him  a  friendly  little  man,  who  had  great 
influence  with  the  President,  so  everyone  said. 

"  I  can  try,"  she  promised. 

"  Then  we'll  see  each  other  there.  Good  night,  Mrs. 
Densie  Plummer  —  you've  a  homemade  name,  too!" 

Bowing  gracefully  the  great-little  man  left  her. 

Densie  could  not  think  of  anyone  else  the  rest  of  the 
evening.  She  wondered  what  he  wanted  to  talk  to  her 
about  at  luncheon. 


245 


XXIV 

Another  world  opened  for  Densie  after  her  luncheon 
at  the  exchange.  At  first  it  bewildered  her,  for  there 
was  still  the  old  reticence  about  meeting  some  stranger 
without  her  husband  by  her  side.  She  had  not  known 
how  very  different  men  can  be  —  when  she  had  been 
married,  and  a  mother  at  twenty!  She  had  heard  of 
other  men  only  through  John's  lips  or  seen  them  with 
his  eyes.  Life  was  ended  for  her  as  regarded  romance. 
In  that  respect  Densie  had  long  since  considered  herself 
an  old  woman.  The  pleasure  that  business  and  social 
success  had  given  her  had  been  largely  a  solitary  sort 
of  national  importance. 

The  senator  had  been  at  the  exchange  ahead  of  time, 
and  when  Densie  came  in  dressed  in  her  gray  gown  he 
smiled  in  approval  and  said  some  pretty,  easy  thing, 
which  both  confused  and  delighted  her.  Densie  had 
had  an  idea  of  telling  John  about  the  invitation  and  in- 
cluding him  in  it.  But  she  reconsidered  that.  John 
had  been  brutally  frank  concerning  Iris  Starr  —  why 
should  she  refuse  a  diplomatic  invitation  to  meet  a  man 
of  national  importance?  She  did  not  tell  either  of  the 
children  —  Sally  was  too  preoccupied  with  her  own 
tangles,  and  she  felt  that  Kenneth  would  have  wanted 
to  come  along. 

"  You  don't  know  how  good  it  was  to  hear  you  say 
those  quaint  things  last  night,"  the  senator  began  as 
they  sat  down  at  their  table. 

246 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

The  manager  of  the  exchange,  recovering  from  cabin 
fever,  thanks  to  Densie,  smiled  approvingly  as  she 
looked  at  them.  They  were  a  well-matched  couple  — 
the  senator's  boyish  figure,  his  white  hair,  his  immacu- 
late suit,  and  Densie's  trig  good-appearing  self  in  gray 
tulle. 

"  I  was  almost  afraid  to  say  what  I  thought,"  she 
admitted.  "  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  strayed 
into  original  lines.  Why  did  you  like  it?" 

"  Because  it  was  sincere.  And  if  a  person  is  sincere 
everything  about  her  —  her  life,  her  associates,  her 
achievements  —  must  of  necessity  be  the  same.  That 
was  why  I  wanted  to  know  you.  I've  been  tremen- 
dously interested  in  club  work  for  years,  and  theoretically 
I  am  heart  and  soul  with  the  movement.  I  see  the  jus- 
tice and  need  for  it.  But  when  I  descend  from  the 
clouds  of  theories  and  walk  on  earth  and  really  see 
things  as  they  are  done  I  lose  my  ideals  —  for  I  find 
very  few  sincere  persons." 

"  I  wonder  if  that  is  always  so!  " 

"  You  probably  do  not  discern  the  fact,  due  to  your 
own  worth.  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  of  yourself  and  your 
family.  I  like  to  know  about  the  people  I  like."  He 
spoke  so  naturally  that  she  felt  as  if  she  wanted  to 
oblige  him. 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  first  to  tell  you  of  myself,"  he 
added,  u  for  if  you  have  read  all  that  is  printed  about 
me  you  have  a  strangely  wrong  idea." 

He  .briefly  outlined  his  life,  a  dreamer  yet  endowed 
with  common  sense,  a  man  with  independent  means, 
thus  saved  from  the  necessity  of  grappling  with  the 
world  to  gain  from  it  bare  necessities  and  to  win  luxu- 
ries only  by  cheating  or  cleverly  laid  and  not  too  ethical 
plans.  He  described  his  school  life,  his  trips  abroad, 

247 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

he  mentioned  his  ideal  marriage  with  a  sentiment  pleas- 
ing to  Densie,  for  it  was  as  Uncle  Herbert  would  have 
spoken.  He  told  of  his  entrance  into  politics,  the  help 
his  wife  had  been,  the  grief  at  the  loss  of  their  only 
child,  a  daughter,  his  wife's  death  a  year  later,  the  re- 
solve always  to  help  women  in  whatsoever  manner  he 
could,  because  of  her  blessed  memory. 

As  Densie  listened  she  felt  she  knew  him  as  she  knew 
Dean  Laddbarry.  He  seemed  to  her  old-fashioned 
yet  strangely  new-fashioned,  to  have  combined  the  vir- 
tues of  both  the  eras  and  discarded  the  vices  of  each. 

She  must  have  shown  her  admiration,  for  he  paused 
to  say:  "Quite  enough  about  myself.  Your  turn, 
please." 

Densie  faltered.  "  There  is  so  little  to  tell  —  a  mid- 
dle-aged woman  with  a  grown-up  family.  I  own  the 
exchange.  I  am  president  of  the  federation.  When 
I  married  I  never  dreamed  this  would  be  so;  circum- 
stances brought  it  about." 

At  which  the  senator  read  between  her  words  and  ad- 
mired the  modesty  which  refused  to  repeat  details.  All 
he  said  was,  "  Your  husband  is  John  Plummer,  used 
to  be  Plummer  &  Plummer,  Warehouse,  didn't  it?" 

"  Yes  —  one  of  the  oldest  firms.  But  my  husband 
felt  he  could  not  battle  alone  with  new  methods.  The 
firm  was  absorbed  by  this  new  corporation.  Since  then 
I  have  known  nothing  of  the  business.  I  could  never 
bear  to  see  the  old  place  torn  inside  out  and  painted 
like  a  caravan  to  attract  passers-by.  I  do  not  think 
my  husband  is  happy  to  have  it  so,  either;  but  he  had 
no  choice." 

"  You  have  a  daughter  —  Harriet,"  he  remarked 
quickly. 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

248 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  I  remember  the  young  woman.  She  was  investi- 
gating child  labor  in  the  canneries,  wasn't  she?  I  was 
the  chairman  of  the  committee  that  listened  to  her  re- 
port." 

His  dark  eyes  twinkled  with  amusement,  and  Densie 
found  herself  laughing. 

"  She  would  do  it  — -I  was  utterly  shocked  at  the 
time.  But  she  assured  me  it  was  part  of  her  mission 
in  life.  I  was  taking  my  family  seriously  at  that  time. 
Now  I  am  a  mere  spectator  and  I  can  see  the  humor- 
ous lining  to  all  the  serious  clouds." 

"  Excellent !  We  all  need  your  spectacles.  These 
youngsters  play  a  fine  bag  of  tricks  on  us.  I  have  never 
been  able  to  forget  her  —  a  clever  girl  but  a  trifle  in- 
human. I  think  she  would  like  the  world  to  run  on 
a  time  clock,  an  institutional  system  for  families.  I 
warrant  she  never  quilted  a  bedspread." 

Densie  shook  her  head.  "  No;  and  my  other  girl 
never  did  anything  but  be  a  pretty,  sentimental  — 
goose."  Her  voice  gravened. 

"  I  must  know  said  goose.  And  have  you  any 
sons?  " 

"  One."  Her  face  lighted  with  pride.  "  He  is  my 
great  comfort.  Ken  and  I  have  weathered  the  chang- 
ing of  fashions  together,  neither  of  us  finding  the  other 
impossible  in  so  doing.  Daughters  do  find  you  impos- 
sible, you  know  —  if  your  bonnets  are  not  correct  or  you 
want  to  chaperone  them!  " 

"  How  old  are  you,  Densie  Plummer?  "  he  demanded. 
"  Just  now  you  seem  twenty-one.  You've  never  lost 
youth,  have  you?  " 

"  Why,  I'm  positively  ancient!  "  Densie  was  amused 
at  the  reticence  she  found  herself  experiencing,  now  that 
her  age  was  demanded. 

249 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Fifty,"  said  the  senator  brutally.  "  I'm  fifty- 
four  —  so  there !  " 

Densie  pouted;  she  did  it  quite  as  well  as  Sally  might 
have  done. 

"  I've  two  more  years  before  I  reach  the  great  di- 
vide —  forty-eight." 

"Isn't  it  splendid  to  be  done  with  middle  age?"  he 
demanded  boyishly.  "  Youth  and  old  age  are  really  the 
only  times  in  the  world.  Middle  age  finds  you  taking 
yourself  and  everyone  connected  with  you  with  utmost 
seriousness.  You  are  bent  on  reforming  the  universe, 
achieving  the  height  of  perfection.  You  scold  the 
young,  pity  the  aged;  you  are  narrow,  orthodox  in  your 
conceit.  Romance  has  no  place  in  your  scheme  of 
things  —  that  belongs  to  youth ;  youth  and  senile  old 
chaps,"  he  chuckled  mischievously.  "  But  after  you 
blossom  into  Indian  summer  you  learn  that  the  sunset 
is  more  glowing  and  beautiful  than  the  sunrise.  Who 
can  really  enjoy  life  in  a  glaring  noonday?  I'm  glad  to 
be  fifty- four;  from  now  on  I  expect  to  be  the  gladdest, 
most  sentimental  old  idiot  who  ever  ate  Densie  Plum- 
mer's  brown  bread." 

He  saluted  her  across  the  table. 

"  Do  say  some  more  —  it  is  just  like  a  play!  "  she  ap- 
plauded. 

"  I'm  beginning  to  recall  the  things  of  youth  —  now 
that  the  awful  stress  and  battle  of  noonday  are  done! 
Why,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  I  just  naturally  hunted 
up  my  guitar  and  went  serenading!  My  white  hair  ex- 
cuses me  anything,  you  see;  and  I've  done  some  things 
in  Washington  that  make  the  people  call  me  their 
friend  —  and  so  I  could  go  a  long  way  before  I  was 
censored.  Do  enjoy  sunset,  Densie  Plummer.  You've 

250 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

a  tired  look  in  your  eyes  that  telb  me  the  noonday  must 
have  been  quite  glaring  and  unromantic!" 

At  which  he  deftly  changed  the  subject  so  as  not  to 
embarrass  her.  Before  he  left  the  exchange,  loaded 
with  purchases  which  he  declared  were  just  the  sort  of 
thing  for  which  he  had  been  looking,  he  asked  Densie 
if  she  would  care  to  be  one  of  a  national  committee  to 
inspect  certain  institutions.  It  paid  a  stipend,  he  ex- 
plained —  Densie  thought  it  a  generous  wage  —  and 
she  would  have  to  travel.  She  said  she  hardly  felt  fitted 
for  the  post,  at  which  he  assured  her  that  she  was  more 
fitted  than  any  of  the  present  committee,  since  she  had 
the  intuition  of  a  homemaker  and  could  spy  out  defects 
which  no  set  of  well-written  reports  could  hide. 


251 


XXV 

The  senator  left  town  the  next  day,  but  he  sent  Densie 
a  farewell  note  renewing  his  promise  to  come  to  her  tea 
room  and  that  he  would  see  she  was  appointed  on  the 
committee.  And  a  week  later  the  appointment  came. 
It  was  quite  impressive  to  receive  the  envelope  without 
a  stamp  on  it  and  read  in  formal  terms  the  fact  that  she 
was  a  national  committee  woman  and  her  district  was 
such  and  such  a  place.  She  told  John  the  news  and 
asked  him  if  he  knew  Senator  Gleason  and  what  was 
his  opinion  of  him. 

"  He's  the  idealistic  chap,  I  guess,"  John  told  her. 
"  I  never  heard  anything  but  good  of  him  —  only  if 
he  hadn't  a  fortune  he  could  never  have  made  his  mark. 
That  doesn't  go  in  politics  —  I  mean  ideals.  I  can  re- 
member." 

Densie  was  shocked  at  herself,  for  as  John  brought 
himself  into  the  conversation  she  felt  it  was  distinctly 
bad  taste,  and  she  was  not  interested  in  the  subject.  She 
also  recalled  finding  several  peculiar  bills  in  the  old 
secretary,  bills  payable  to  men  of  questionable  occupa- 
tion and  character.  But  she  did  not  mention  it. 

''  We  had  lunch  together  at  the  exchange,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  I  never  saw  anyone  like  brown  bread  any 
better  than  he  did.  It  was  then  he  offered  me  the  posi- 
tion. I  found  him  delightful  —  with  a  boy's  heart  and 
the  mind  of  a  mellowed,  wise  man.  He  told  me  of  his 
wife,"  she  added  quickly  —  she  did  not  know  just  why. 
u  His  heart  broke  when  she  died." 

2C2 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Ah,"  commented  John,  "  but  his  appetite  stayed  in- 
tact—  is  that  it?" 

Densie  flushed.  She  was  going  to  ask  John  if  he  did 
not  want  to  reduce  his  share  of  expenses  still  further, 
now  that  she  had  this  extra  income.  She  wanted  to  be 
fair  to  him,  as  fair  as  an  ice-coated  river  with  a  deep 
current  of  love  and  loyalty  can  be.  But  she  refrained. 

She  studied  him  as  he  sat  uncomfortably  in  his  chair. 
It  was  not  a  particularly  comfortable  chair  —  but  for 
that  matter  none  of  the  chairs  had  been  designed  for 
lounging  or  comfort.  John's  face  had  changed,  he  was 
too  fat  to  be  good  looking  —  almost  sleek.  The  red- 
dish hair  was  sprinkled  with  gray;  his  smooth-shaven 
face  had  a  wasted,  lazy  expression,  she  could  not  have 
told  just  what  designated  it,  but  it  was  paramount  — 
perhaps  it  was  the  absence  of  any  lines  round  his  eyes 
or  on  his  forehead.  When  he  was  a  young  man  he  had 
every  indication  of  being  one  of  those  splendid,  lean, 
elderly  men  who  bespeak  muscle  and  achievement,  who 
have  neither  spared  nor  wasted  their  energies.  He 
would  have  had  well-defined  lines  across  his  forehead, 
telling  of  battles  for  the  right,  his  eyes  would  have  been 
slightly  crisscrossed,  as  eyes  should  be  at  fifty,  and  he 
would  have  been  someone  whom  a  portrait  painter  would 
have  taken  a  delight  to  have  as  a  subject. 

But  the  lines  were  not  there  —  instead  was  a  discon- 
tented expression  about  his  mouth.  Novelists  always  at- 
tribute to  women  these  discontented  mouths,  but  men 
have  them  quite  as  frequently  —  only  they  can  be  wise 
and  grow  a  mustache  to  cover  up  what  has  happened. 

His  hands  were  not  firm  like  the  senator's,  but  flabby, 
and  manicured,  to  please  Iris;  and  he  wore  a  showy  ring. 
He  was  really  aping  Rex  Humberstone.  This  man  in 
his  ultra-modish  suit  of  check  was  not  her  John.  She 

253 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

tried  to  convince  herself  that  the  coating  of  ice  was  really 
all  the  river  possessed  —  but  she  could  not  quite  still  the 
flowing  current. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  go  on  in  public  life  until  women  get 
the  vote;  then  you'll  be  chief  of  police."  He  spoke  in 
that  lackadaisical  manner  to  hide  ever-present  masculine 
jealousy  at  his  woman's  doing  anything  outside  her 
hearth. 

Densie  laughed  off  the  joke  —  but  the  sting  of  his  re- 
mark remained. 

"  Well,  think  how  secure  you  could  then  feel,"  she 
answered  quickly. 

Senator  Gleason  happened  to  be  in  Densie's  district 
when  she  was  on  her  first  inspection  tour.  She  was  in- 
specting orphanages,  bringing  to  light  neglected  homey 
trifles  and  ferreting  out  unjust  punishment  or  suggesting 
a  more  wholesome  menu.  She  had  such  a  gentle  way 
of  stating  her  complaint,  of  reading  in  the  harsh  faces 
of  attendants  their  own  tragedies  and  dissatisfactions 
and  saying  something  appropriately  soothing  that  they 
held  no  umbrage  toward  her  when  she  took  them  to 
task.  The  former  inspectors  had  been  political  graft- 
ers who  just  naturally  "  got "  the  appointment  or  single 
women  with  a  mission  in  life,  after  Harriet's  fashion. 
With  her  motherly  easy  way  Densie  seemed  to  gain 
results  without  inciting  displeasure  or  causing  rebellion. 
She  could  see  the  arguments  on  the  side  of  the  attended 
and  the  attendants  —  she  would  grow  misty  eyed  when 
the  orphan  sang  Jesus,  Tender  Shepherd,  Lead  Me; 
and  when  she  listened  to  the  matron's  budget  of  woes 
that  "  nobuddy  cares  nuthin'  about,"  the  same  mistiness 
would  appear  in  her  purplish  eyes  for  the  matron's 
satisfaction. 

Altogether  the  senator  had  acted  wisely  by  placing 

254 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  as  he  had,  and  if  he  chanced  to  be  lingering  about 
in  his  new  touring  car  —  the  modern  method  of  sere- 
nading, as  he  boldly  declared  —  and  took  her  across  the 
country,  talking  to  her  eagerly,  asking  endless  personal 
questions  about  herself,  while  Densie  planned  great  im- 
personal things  in  institutional  reform  —  no  one  seemed 
to  think  anything  about  it  except  Densie  and  the  senator. 

What  the  senator  thought  showed  in  his  face  as  he 
looked  at  Densie,  and  what  Densie  thought  was  a  hope- 
less jumble  of  ideas  —  first  a  "wicked  delight,"  as  she 
named  it,  in  knowing  him;  of  having  someone  who  really 
cared  what  you  thought  about  the  morning's  editorials 
and  wanted  to  be  sure  whether  you  took  one  or  two 
lumps  of  sugar  in  your  coffee,  if  you  ever  had  headaches 
and  if  you  did  not  think  the  exchange  was  too  much  for 
one  small  old-fashioned  fairy  —  his  name  for  Densie  — 
and  that  you  ought  to  sell  it. 

u  I'm  a  boy  and  you're  a  girl,"  he  said  one  day,  "  and 
we  can  play  all  we  like.  Isn't  that  ripping?  Being  a 
senator  —  you  being  Mrs.  Densie  Plummer  —  hides  us 
from  ruthless  ridicule  of  the  younger  generation.  They 
think  we  are  planning  a  cheaper  kind  of  Sunday  pudding 
or  lobster-colored  shirts  for  the  epileptic  colony!  But 
we're  not,  are  we?  We  are  boy  and  girl,  fifty-four  and 
forty-eight,  finished  with  noonday  and  watching  the  sun- 
set together !  " 

He  would  have  said  more  if  Densie  had  not  forced 
him  to  discuss  some  practical  topic. 

He  had  asked  her  to  bring  her  son  and  daughter  and 
visit  him  at  his  winter  home  in  Virginia,  but  she  refused; 
and  the  subject  of  John  was  never  mentioned.  Densie 
felt  she  could  not  do  so,  just  as  John  had  once  felt  that 
Iris  Starr  had  no  right  even  to  speak  Densie's  name. 
They  always  feel  this  way  at  the  beginning  —  these 

255 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

forty-eight-year-old  girls  and  fifty-four-year-old  boys 
prattling  away  of  sunsets  and  Indian  summer !  But  it 
soon  evaporates  and  leaves  them  as  thoughtlessly  selfish 
as  the  younger  generation  who  begrudge  their  elders  hav- 
ing a  wise  and  restraining  finger  in  their  romance. 

Another  time  the  senator  had  said  abruptly,  "  Are  you 
happy?  " 

Before  she  thought  she  answered,  "  I  try  to  be  —  I 
try,"  and  was  immediately  sorry  that  she  had  spoken. 
She  wondered  if  he  knew  about  Iris  Starr  and  the  rift 
between  John  and  herself,  but  if  he  did  he  kept  his 
own  counsel  like  the  gentleman  he  was.  He  sent  Densie 
books  and  wrote  her  letters  illustrated  by  his  own  pen- 
and-ink  sketches  and  sometimes  old-fashioned  bouquets 
fit  for  only  an  old-fashioned  fairy,  but  no  one  in  the 
family  noticed,  because  Densie  had  so  many  club  women 
seeking  her  patronage  that  she  was  being  deluged  with 
offerings. 

Returning  from  her  second  successful  inspection  trip 
—  her  exchange  business  all  to  be  attended  to,  her  club 
work  behind,  a  hundred  duties  before  her,  as  well  as  re- 
plenishing her  wardrobe  and  visiting  with  her  son  while 
she  pretended  not  to  see  the  trapped  look  in  Sally's 
eyes  —  Densie  met  John  coming  into  the  apartment  with 
a  peculiarly  terrifying  expression.  He  was  white  and 
shiny  looking,  as  if  he  had  been  ill  a  long  time,  and  he 
shuffled  instead  of  properly  lifting  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  you're  back,"  was  all  he  said  as  he  saw  her. 
"  Well  —  it's  come.  I've  been  expecting  it." 

"What?" 

She  started  to  kiss  him,  as  was  her  custom.  She  felt 
an  infinite  tenderness  for  this  wasted  husband  of  hers, 
a  pity  which  was  impersonal  and  vast  enough  to  extend 
even  to  the  foolish  woman  who  had  entangled  him. 

256 


;  —  blow  into  town  presumably  walking  the  ties  and  get  a  job  at  the 

factory,  act  as  rough  as  I  like  and  lay  in  wait  to  see  if  they  are 

employing  child  labor."     (See  page  12$) 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  I'm  discharged,"  he  said  thickly,  shuffling  over  to 
the  mantel.  "  I'm  not  young  and  quick  enough.  I 
haven't  money  to  keep  buying  their  damned  stock. 
Most  of  the  young  clerks  turn  back  some  of  their  salary 
each  week.  I  hate  the  cursed  store  —  the  cheats !  I 
don't  care.  I  can  get  another  job,  but  of  course  it  won't 
be  a  manager's  job Well,  do  you  understand?" 

"  I  am  so  sorry." 

She  spoke  as  gently  as  if  he  were  a  child.  She  was 
thinking  with  humorous  dismay  that  she  could  have  given 
John  a  position  almost  as  good  as  the  one  he  had  held  — 
he  could  have  managed  her  exchange  —  but  she  would 
not  offend  his  dignity,  crippled  though  it  was. 

"  Of  course,  I'd  rather  you  did  not  work  for  them  — 
I  never  wanted  it,  and  it  was  never  right." 

"  What  else  was  there  to  do?  "  he  said  savagely.  "  I 
did  all  I  could."  He  almost  hated  her  for  her  success 
and  his  failure.  "  If  I  hadn't  been  saddled  with  a  family 
ever  since  I  was  a  stripling  this  would  never  have  come. 
By  the  looks  of  things,  Densie,  our  children  will  profit 
by  our  mistake.  Sally  and  Harriet  will  not  be  drudges 
as  you  say  you  were  —  and  the  boy  is  all  for  himself, 
I've  noticed." 

"  Ah,  was  it  such  a  mistake?  "  she  asked  suddenly,  the 
old  deep  current  flowing  very  fast. 

"  I'm  down  and  out."  He  did  not  notice  the  re- 
mark. "  I've  lost  everything  I  have.  I've  a  little  stock 
in  the  place  and  they  said  " —  his  teeth  bit  his  under  lip 
until  it  was  white  — "  they  said,  '  If  you  can't  find  an- 
other job  we'll  take  you  on  as  clerk  in  the  spice  depart- 
ment.' By  God,  they  don't  care  how  they  grind  a  man 
down!  I  kept  Hippler  after  he  was  deaf  and  half  blind 
and  insolent!  " 

"Why,  you're  young  —  at  your  prime!"  Densie 

257 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

spoke  more  to  herself,  because  she  was  thinking  of  the 
senator.  "What  an  insult  that  was  to  you!" 

"  I'll  go  out  to-morrow  and  get  a  real  job,"  he  asserted 
proudly.  "  Watch  me." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  anything  I  have " 

"I'd  starve  first!"  He  almost  snarled  his  refusal. 
He  went  away  to  seek  out  Iris  Starr  and  be  properly  un- 
derstood and  comforted. 

Late  that  night  Densie  returning  from  a  theater  party, 
inwardly  disturbed  by  what  had  happened,  found  her 
husband  huddled  before  the  gas  grate,  looking  even 
older  and  more  decided.  He  did  not  say  what  was 
wrong  —  but  she  knew.  Iris  Starr  had  refused  to  com- 
fort anyone  who  did  not  own  sufficient  stock  in  the 
Golden  Rule  to  keep  his  position.  Of  course,  she  was 
sorry  —  and  so  fond  of  him  —  but  she  had  to  look 
out  for  herself  first  of  all.  He  had  better  not  come  any 
more  —  it  was  just  as  well  things  had  never  been  forced 
with  his  wife  to  the  point  of  obtaining  a  divorce,  for  — 
here  she  had  laughed  gratingly  —  while  she  could  sup- 
port herself  she  could  not  support  a  husband,  and  from 
all  reports  his  wife  was  capable  of  supplying  him  with  all 
the  comforts  of  home! 

His  world  in  wreckage  about  him  John  retraced  his 
footsteps  to  his  wife's  apartment,  gray  and  old  of  heart. 
Pride  would  not  let  him  confess  his  own  undoing.  Cer- 
tainly not  to  Densie,  of  whom  he  had  demanded  his  free- 
dom that  he  marry  someone  who  understood  him! 

Two  months  later  after  an  endless  search  for  work 
John  Plummer  donned  a  white  apron  and  stood  behind 
a  counter  at  The  Golden  Rule  Tea  Store,  but  his  face 
grew  thinner,  lines  timidly  made  their  appearance  across 
his  forehead.  He  had  really  promoted  himself  in  the 
biggest  sense,  only  he  did  not  yet  realize  what  was  hap- 

258 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

pening.  Densie's  friends  pitied  her  — "  a  grocer  clerk 
for  a  husband,  she's  such  a  brilliant  dear!  " 

And  Densie  accepted  the  situation  with  numbed  indif- 
ference; pride  held  John  from  telling  her  half  that  was 
beginning  to  whisper  itself  to  his  starved,  lonesome  heart. 

John's  becoming  a  grocer  clerk  was  a  blow  to  Sally. 
It  weakened  her  hold  on  Rex,  she  thought,  just  as 
Densie's  prestige  had  undeniably  strengthened  it.  Rex 
could  no  longer  regard  Densie  as  a  little  slug  and  pass 
her  with  a  patronizing  nod.  He  found  Densie  a  modern 
woman  with  every  whit  as  much  ingenuity  as  he  pos- 
sessed, besides  a  courtesy  and  sincerity  which  had  never 
been  part  of  his  make-up. 

Rex  accepted  the  transformation  laughingly  and  told 
Sally  it  was  a  shame,  and  as  soon  as  he  found  something 
really  safe  to  play  in  stocks  he  was  going  to  see  that  John 
Plummer  made  his  pile.  Rex  had  grown  older  looking 
in  the  last  couple  of  years,  he  was  more  secretive  as  to 
his  business,  but  his  money  had  seemed  to  increase  magi- 
cally and  he  gave  Sally  very  gorgeous  trappings,  things 
way  beyond  even  a  well-to-do  man's  means. 

They  had  come  to  an  understanding  —  a  sort  of 
"  youVe-got-me-ithere-is-no-use-trying-to-get-away  "  feel- 
ing. But  Rex  was  no  longer  the  adoring  cavalier  re- 
joicing in  Sally's  youth  and  beauty.  He  told  her  bluntly 
when  her  face  was  badly  powdered  or  when  she  should 
have  used  rouge;  he  criticized  her  clothes  and  made  fun 
of  her  painting.  He  delighted  to  point  out  various 
couples  who  had  married  at  the  time  he  had  first  known 
Sally  and  were  burdened  with  youngsters  and  the  cares  of 
a  home,  and  ask  Sally  if  she  would  like  to  push  a  pram 
and  have  to  buy  liver  and  bacon  to  cook  the  next  morning 
at  six  a.  m. 

Sometimes  Sally  would  tell  him  very  sharply  that  she 

259 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

would,  she  hated  suave,  tip-seeking  menials,  richly  spiced 
unwise  food,  endless  extravagance  and  needless  luxury, 
a  veritable  storybook  way  of  living.  Again  she  would 
realize  that  she  had  grown  accustomed  to  ease,  to  living 
this  sort  of  life,  that  she  preferred  to  have  no  work  to 
do,  to  eat-  and  drink  what  she  wished,  wear  what  she 
liked,  to  have  a  sort  of  domineering  influence  over  Rex 
and  be  pointed  out  as  Rex  Humberstone's  fiancee  wher- 
ever she  went. 

Sally  thought  that  was  all  that  was  whispered  about 
her,  but  the  remarks  were  no  longer  as  kind  as  they  had 
once  been.  They  ran:  "Engaged  for  years,  has  no 
intention  of  marrying  anyone,  just  likes  to  show  her  off." 
"  She  is  pretty  but  hasn't  she  faded?  Five  years  ago  she 
was  a  beauty."  "Watch  and  see;  he'll  grow  tired  of 
her  if  she  nags  at  him,  and  I've  heard  that  she  did." 
"  No,  her  mother  can't  do  a  thing;  she  is  crazy-mad  over 
him.  Odd  devil  at  that !  " 

During  the  latter  part  of  1913  Densie  found  herself 
taking  a  still  further  step  in  public  work.  She  became 
interested  in  mysticism,  unorthodox  cults;  she  attended 
their  meetings  and  went  to  mediums  and  investigated 
their  methods.  She  did  not  become  a  follower  of  them, 
but  they  held  her  attention  and  she  was  amused  at  their 
claims.  A  New  York  paper  in  which  the  senator  was 
interested  asked  her  to  write  her  opinions  of  the  various 
cults  which  had  gained  a  foothold  in  America,  and  she 
began  her  series  with  a  daring  title:  America's  Menace, 
which  created  quite  a  bit  of  excitement  and  approval. 

The  paper  paid  her  well  and  gave  her  untold  promi- 
nence. She  enjoyed  both  —  she  was  beginning  to  be 
proud  of  being  known  as  Mrs.  Densie  Plummer,  fame 
was  very  sweet  to  possess,  and  she  caught  herself  at- 
tempting the  doing  of  artificial  tricks  to  foster  it.  And 

260 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

though  she  was  somewhat  ashamed  she  did  not  stop  the 
doing  of  them. 

All  the  while  John  Plummer's  face  grew  thin  and 
lined,  but  he  stoically  wore  his  white  apron  and  meas- 
ured out  spices  with  an  unsteady  hand  —  for  he  found 
his  panacea  in  drink;  and  Densie,  who  was  hardly  aware 
of  the  change  in  him,  only  thought  of  him  when  it  was 
necessary,  which  John  took  pains  was  as  seldom  as  pos- 
sible. 

Once  he  laid  a  clipping  on  her  desk  which  began,  "  Join 
the  Only  Her  Husband's  Club  " ;  and  when  she  returned 
it  to  him  she  said  gravely,  u  I  wish  you  would  take 
charge  of  the  exchange.  It  has  grown  to  such  an  extent 
it  really  needs  a  man." 

"  Oh,  then  women  can't  do  everything?  "  he  retorted. 
'  We  never  claimed  we  could;  we  claimed  we  can  do 
things  as  well.  Why  won't  you,  John  ?"  And  she  men- 
tioned an  ample  salary. 

"  I'd  starve  before  I'd  go  to  work  for  my  wife."  He 
rose  abruptly,  kicking  away  a  footstool.  "  And  don't 
begin  the  old  harangue  " —  he  lifted  his  unsteady 
hand  —  "I'm  damned  if  I'll  listen  to  any  more  of 
women's  wrongs." 

"You've  been  drinking!" 

"Who  wouldn't?" 

Densie  shrugged  her  shoulders.  The  coating  of  ice 
came  to  the  rescue  of  the  deep  current.  She  turned  to 
Kenneth  for  consolation.  Kenneth  regarded  his  mother 
as  the  only  person  who  could  do  no  wrong,  partly  be- 
cause he  saw  the  same  idea  reflected  in  Densie's  dark  blue 
eyes  whenever  she  looked  at  him. 

Just  after  this  incident  another  honor  came  to  Densie; 
she  was  named  chairman  of  the  National  Eugenics  Com- 
mittee and  asked  to  write  her  experiences  as  a  state  in- 

261 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

spector.  Even  Harriet  was  stirred  by  this,  and  advised 
her  mother  not  to  be  a  sob  sister  and  have  anything  sen- 
timental embodied  with  her  arguments.  Oddly  enough, 
Harriet  was  to  be  one  of  the  critics  of  the  report. 

"  Well,  it's  getting  too  much  for  me,"  Sally  told  her 
father  that  night,  "  I've  a  limited  brain  —  and  just  now 
I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  go  out  and  have  a  sensible  talk 
with  the  horse." 

The  two  disgruntled  ones  spent  a  wretched  evening  in- 
dulging in  semi-treasonous  remarks  and  dire  prophecies. 


262 


XXVI 

Shunted  into  a  backwater  of  life  John  turned  to  his 
health  as  the  most  interesting  topic  and  recreation.  He 
was  annoyed  when  Sally  joked  about  his  leakage  of  the 
heart  and  when  Kenneth  left  samples  of  patent  medicine 
on  his  dresser  he  felt  as  aggrieved  and  misunderstood  as 
any  woman  invalid  trying  to  convince  her  doctor  as  to 
the  state  of  her  nerves.  Densie  ignored  the  thing,  which 
was  the  most  cutting  of  all. 

She  saw  her  husband  only  a  few  moments  each  day 
and  she  had  unconsciously  become  like  Harriet,  sweetly 
courteous  and  blandly  impersonal  whenever  she  met  him. 
Things  did  not  affect  her  —  the  coating  of  ice  over  the 
deep  current  was  thicker  and  more  permanent.  As  Den- 
sie had  one  time  ardently  desired  nothing  but  benefits 
for  her  family,  labored  with  her  hands,  prayed  with  her 
soul  and  loved  with  all  her  heart,  she  now  diverted  the 
same  amount  of  material  and  spiritual  energy  toward  her 
own  advancement  and  the  affairs  of  persons  outside  her 
house.  She  worked  for  her  orphans  and  her  blind  and 
tubercular  victims  zealously,  she  pointed  out  faults  and 
praised  virtues  with  an  equal  evenness  of  temper,  she 
conducted  the  presidency  of  clubs  with  admirable  execu- 
tive ability,  stumped  for  suffrage  throughout  the  state 
and  made  an  unprecedented  record,  for  she  was  neither 
assertive,  masculine  nor  sentimentally  emotional  —  just 
an  old-fashioned  fairy,  as  the  senator  said  —  and  who 
could  resist  her? 

Mrs.  Densie  Plummer  became  known  as  the  exception 
to  the  rule,  no  one  minded  when  she  asked  for  favors, 

263 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

because  she  always  asked  with  a  "  please  "  and  received 
with  a  "  thank  you." 

The  senator  was  proud  of  Densie;  he  boasted  she  was 
his  champion  find.  Densie  used  to  try  to  persuade  her- 
self this  meant  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  to  have  him 
say  it,  but  she  had  to  admit  to  her  truthful  self  that  this 
boyish  white-haired  man  of  fifty-four  had  come  to  mean 
a  great  deal.  She  thought  of  him  before  she  thought  of 
anyone  else  except  Kenneth.  And  when  she  thought  of 
Kenneth  she  always  thought  of  James  Gleason,  because 
he  had  promised  Densie  to  see  that  Kenneth  had  the 
West  Point  appointment  and  could  begin  to  be  a  captain, 
his  fondly  cherished  dream.  She  also  thought  that  the 
senator's  influence  would  be  good  for  Kenneth,  he  needed 
such  an  idealistic  yet  strong  man  to  copy.  Then  she 
would  reprove  herself  and  remember  John  Plummer. 
Poor  John  was  engrossed  by  a  new  eye  trouble,  grum- 
bling over  the  white  linen  apron  he  donned  every  morn- 
ing at  eight-fifteen !  When  she  came  to  this  point  she 
would  try  to  stop  her  reflections  about  Kenneth  and  think 
of  someone  else  —  say,  Harriet. 

She  could  understand  Harriet's  viewpoint  now,  and 
she  was  proud  of  the  girl  though  anxious  as  to  her  health. 
In  another  two  years  the  senator  said  he  would  have  her 
appointed  for  the  study  of  eugenics  and  sent  abroad  — 
the  senator  was  so  kind,  he  knew  not  only  what  to  say 
but  what  to  do.  He  had  told  her  of  his  old  home,  hint- 
ing it  was  very  lonesome  these  days  and  that  the  big 
rooms  were  waiting  with  their  priceless  antiques  for  a 
mistress,  that  the  garden  was  a  mass  of  roses  and  an  old 
sunken  fountain  bubbled  away  in  the  sunlight  while 

dragon  flies  glittered  about  a  little  statue  of  Pan 

Here  Densie  would  try  to  collect  herself  again,  for  she 
was  still  thinking  of  the  senator. 

264 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

She  would  turn  her  thoughts  to  Sally,  and  the  deep 
mother  current  of  anxiety  and  resentment  would  begin  to 
stir  —  beautiful  wasted  Sally  going  her  foolish  squirrel- 
cage  way  —  over  and  over,  the  eternal  round  of  useless 
drives  and  dinners  and  forced  places.  Densie's  face 
would  grow  stern  as  she  visualized  Rex  —  a  sneaking 
coward,  she  called  him  —  who  had  hypnotized  her  child 
and  shut  her  away  from  everything  normal,  the  things 
for  which  Sally  had  been  destined.  Well,  the  senator 
had  guessed  this  worry  and  promised  if  the  time  came 
when  he  could  be  of  use  in  handling  Mr.  Humberstone 
he  was  sure  not  to  fail.  The  senator  had  a  cure  for 
every  ill,  a  smile  to  erase  every  frown 

Densie  would  stop  again.  Then  she  would  fall  to 
planning  her  new  clothes,  but  unconsciously  they  would 
comply  with  the  style  and  color  the  senator  had  said  he 
liked  best.  It  was  impossible  to  stop  thinking  of  him 
as  the  central  figure  in  her  life.  She  could  not  help  but 
contrast  him  with  Iris  Starr  —  for  the  senator  had  done 
everything  for  Densie  with  no  hope  of  reward,  while  Iris 
Starr  flattered  John  and  then  discarded  him  like  a  worn- 
out  glove  the  instant  reverses  were  his  lot. 

Could  she  have  done  any  differently?  The  vista  of 
years  would  stretch  before  her  and  she  would  often  pass 
down  them  figuratively,  recalling  memories  and  events 
of  each  one,  ending  way,  way  back  at  the  happiest  day 
of  her  life,  when  she  made  a  bit  of  a  biscuit  under 
Ellen  Porch's  kindly  guidance,  and  looked  out  the  win- 
dow to  see  John  astride  his  pony,  killing  lions  and  tigers 
in  the  kitchen  garden. 

It  bothered  Densie  most  of  the  time  that  John  held 
a  clerk's  position.  Her  false  sense  of  pride,  created 
since  her  own  honors  and  position  had  become  of  im- 
portance, chafed  at  the  thought  of  her  husband's  answer- 

265 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ing  flat  voices  as  to  the  price  of  paprika  and  cinnamon. 
Yet,  if  she  suggested  that  he  retire  or  try  again  to  find 
something  more  congenial,  she  saw  that  he  had  become 
a  self-inflicted  martyr  —  his  heart  condition  and  his 
white  linen  apron  were  to  him  as  a  monk's  horsehair 
shirt.  He  rather  gloried  in  his  downfall.  Had  Iris 
Starr  stayed  in  his  life  all  might  have  been  different,  but 
left  to  himself  while  Densie  forged  ahead  John's 
afflictions  became  his  friends,  and  Densie  saw  that  he 
would  wear  his  white  apron  and  take  heart  medicine 
until  he,  per  se,  saw  fit  to  do  otherwise. 

"  It  is  just  that  you  would  be  happier,  John,"  she  had 
urged. 

'  You're  ashamed  of  me,"  he  snarled. 

Densie  smiled,  remembering  the  years  John  had  been 
ashamed  of  her  —  that  fatal  New  York  trip,  for  ex- 
ample. 

"  It  doesn't  look  dignified,"  she  assured  him. 

"  The  senator  or  your  friends  don't  trade  at  the 
Golden  Rule,"  he  answered  with  martyred  satisfaction; 
"  and  Sally  and  Ken  never  pass  by  on  that  side  of  the 
street." 

Densie  hesitated.  "  John,  suppose  we  try  really  to 
talk  it  over?  " 

"  I'm  all  out  of  heart  drops,"  he  would  answer,  con- 
sulting a  medicine  stand.  "  I'll  have  to  go  to  the  drug 
store  right  away." 

And  with  relief  Densie  would  allow  the  conversation 
to  end. 

Densie  earned  even  more  money  that  year  by  doing 
special  investigating  work  for  the  consumers'  league  — 
she  became  quite  intimate  with  Harriet  via  letter,  and 
Harriet  found  that  her  mother  was  mentioned  in  the 

266 


circles  which  she  respected  as  a  woman  of  authority  and 
influence. 

Another  peculiar  incident  happened  just  at  this  time. 
Instead  of  writing  to  Densie,  Dean  Laddbarry  began 
writing  to  John,  or  rather  John  answered  one  of  Densie's 
letters  as  she  requested,  and  a  correspondence  sprang  up 
between  the  older  man  and  Dean,  with  John  telling  all 
the  news,  after  the  fashion  of  a  woman,  and  hinting  of 
his  wrongs  in  clumsy  masculine  fashion.  He  grew  de- 
pendent on  Dean's  cheer-o  letters  written  about  his  busi- 
ness in  the  West  and  his  liking  for  the  life  and  the  coun- 
try. Occasionally,  not  so  frequently  as  before,  he  would 
ask  about  Sally;  to  which  John  would  reply  briefly: 
"Sally's  fine;  some  day  or  other  I  suppose  she'll  get 
married." 

Sally  never  knew  this.  She  knew  Dean  wrote  her 
father,  but  pride  refused  to  let  her  read  the  letters  or 
answer  them.  She  had  developed  pride  as  her  horse- 
hair shirt,  just  as  John  had  the  heart  leakage  and  the 
white  apron.  Kenneth  and  Densie  were  free  from 
horsehair  shirts,  each  busy  living  in  the  world  and  happy 
with  each  other.  But  to  Sally  —  she  was  twenty-eight 
now  —  had  come  a  peculiar  vanity  and  reticence  about 
herself  and  Rex  Humberstone.  She  was  neither  proud 
nor  reserved  with  Rex,  she  had  bad  scenes  in  which  she 
stormed  or  upbraided  him  for  being  engaged  and  never 
intending  marriage  and  threatened  him  that  he  dare  not 
break  off  the  affair  —  loving  him  all  the  while  with  that 
wild,  starved  infatuation  which  no  one  has  ever  been 
able  to  understand  or  justify ! 

The  truth  was  that  Rex  Humberstone  was  not  afraid 
of  Sally,  but  of  Densie  Plummer;  he  realized  her  influ- 
ence. He  had  seen  her  with  Senator  Gleason,  whom  he 

267 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

always  avoided,  and  he  felt  it  was  better  to  weather 
Sally's  storms  than  to  tell  her  he  did  not  love  her  and 
let  her  go  weeping  to  her  modern  mother's  arms.  He 
had  the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  his  years  of  belittling 
Sally's  mother  might  play  boomerang. 

Besides,  some  of  the  time  Sally  was  fair  company  and 
she  was  still  beautiful,  and  he  was  altogether  too  old  and 
too  engrossed  on  a  new  and  lucrative  mission  to  take 
time  for  younger  women  —  he  had  trained  Sally  and  was 
content  to  let  it  so  stay. 

For  a  long  time  the  conversation  between  Sally  and 
her  mother  had  been  confined  to  "  when  I  will  be  home  " 
and  "  when  I  won't  be  home  "  and  arguments  over  the 
honesty  of  a  cleaning  woman.  Sally  had  become  a  semi- 
secretary-housekeeper,  such  as  she  was,  with  Densie  pay- 
ing her  fifty  dollars  a  month  and  allowing  her  that  for 
clothes  and  incidentals.  Sally  had  long  ago  given  up 
trying  to  paint  for  a  living;  she  admitted  now  with  a  bit- 
ter laugh  that  it  was  a  girlish  notion  and  amounted  to 
nothing.  She  told  her  mother's  friends  and  her  own, 
what  few  she  still  had,  that  she  preferred  staying  home 
and  looking  after  things,  and  she  accepted  Densie's  al- 
lowance without  a  qualm,  telling  herself  that  the  few 
notes  she  wrote  or  bills  she  paid  deserved  her  wage. 

Kenneth,  who  was  finishing  school,  was  engaged  by 
the  senator  at  sixty  dollars  a  month  to  do  some  sort  of 
clerical  work,  no  one  really  knew  just  what;  but  he  went 
to  the  senator's  office  every  day  after  school  hours  and 
busied  himself  with  various  matters,  chiefly  answering 
the  phone  and  reading  the  latest  magazines  while  en- 
sconced in  a  comfortable  leather  chair. 

John  had  said,  "  I  worked  for  my  uncle  for  a  dollar  a 
week  when  I  was  a  boy,"  when  Kenneth  told  him  of  the 
position. 

268 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

'  You're  growing  old,  daddy,"  his  son  informed  him. 
"  You're  beginning  to  talk  about  the  past  —  that's  what 
you  said  about  Uncle  Sam  Hippler." 

"  Senators  didn't  hire  sixty-dollar-a-month  office  boys 
then." 

"  Didn't  they?  If  they  knew  the  office  boys'  bully 
mummies?  "  Kenneth  finished  in  innocent  triumph. 

At  which  John's  face  turned  a  mottled  color  and  he 
took  an  extra  dose  of  heart  drops. 

John's  salary  was  twenty  dollars  a  week.  Out  of  this 
he  paid  ten  toward  the  apartment  expenses,  a  drop  in 
the  bucket  in  reality.  The  rest  was  used  for  medicines 
and  his  clothes.  He  wore  rather  goodlooking  clothes 
and  took  a  melancholy  pride  in  his  appearance. 

"  The  really  sick  people  never  show  how  ill  they  are," 
he  was  wont  to  remark. 

But  Densie  paid  all  the  rest  of  the  bills,  which  she 
was  glad  to  do  under  the  circumstances. 


269 


XXVII 

Mrs.  Plummer  was  surprised  to  have  Sally  accost  her 
one  morning  to  ask,  "  Do  you  know  any  regular  position 
I  could  take?  I'm  tired  of  licking  postage  stamps  and 
seeing  that  the  cleaning  woman  doesn't  rob  our  silver 
chest.  I  want  to  try  to  really  do  something." 

Though  the  coating  of  ice  was  solid  and  of  long  stand- 
ing the  warm  current  underneath  prompted  Densie  to 
say  with  unusual  tenderness,  "  What  would  you  like  to 
do?  You  are  not  the  sort  to  pin  down  to  routine.  As 
long  as  you  stay  at  home  it  does  not  matter,  but  stran- 
gers insist  on  regularity." 

Sally  began  fidgeting  among  the  papers  on  her  moth- 
er's desk.  "  I  would  be  regular,"  she  promised, 
strangely  •  chagrined  at  asking  this  favor.  "  Oh, 
mummy,  I'm  weary  of  being  called  Rex's  fiancee  and 
knowing  we  will  never  marry!  There  is  a  lot  of  that 
sort  of  tragedy  going  on  these  days.  It's  worse  than  if 
you  married  someone  that  was  horrid  or  that  died  — 
you'd  have  the  legal  right  to  show  emotion.  But  I'm 
supposed  to  be  '  lucky  Sally  Plummer  ' —  and  I  hate  my- 
self and  my  wasted  years  and  —  this  ring." 

Tears  came  into  her  eyes. 

Densie  reflected  a  moment.  "  It  is  too  late  to  bother 
over  what  is  done."  She  forced  herself  to  speak 
sharply.  "  I'll  see  about  a  position.  You  are  not 
equipped  for  anything.  If  you  could  typewrite  or  sew 
or  had  ever  developed  any  one  talent  or  ability." 

"  I've  spent  my  best  years  trimming  hats  with  which 

270 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

to  charm  a  roue,"  the  girl  said  honestly.  "  I  can't  re- 
fuse to  speak  the  truth  any  longer." 

"Why  not  stay  here  then?  You  are  useful,  Sally. 
It  would  never  do  for  me  to  get  a  position  for  you  and 
have  you  fail  to  make  good  or  leave  it."  Densie  was 
thinking  of  her  own  reputation. 

"  I'd  not  be  a  credit  to  you,  would  I?  "  Sally's  black 
brows  drew  together  in  a  straight  line.  She  picked  up 
a  letter  and  glanced  curiously  at  it.  "  You  have  come 
on,  mummy  —  this  chummy  sort  of  thing  from  the  vice 
regent  of  the  D.  A.  R.,  and  your  two  personal  letters 
from  the  President  —  you  have  come  on."  She  rose 
wearily,  as  Densie  used  to  after  a  long  day  in  the 
household.  "  I  suppose  it  is  too  late  to  start  again, 
isn't  it?" 

"  If  you'd  give  up  Rex,"  her  mother  said,  halfway 
hoping;  "couldn't  you,  Sally?  Now  that  you  realize 
the  truth  ?  " 

Sally  dropped  her  head.  "  He's  a  habit  now  —  a 
dreary,  deadly  habit,  a  veritable  gray  wolf!  I'd  be  lost 
without  him,  I'm  afraid.  I'm  not  blaming  anyone  but 
myself  —  only  I  was  very  young  and  I  cared  so  hard." 

Densie  was  going  to  add,  "  And  you  would  not  let 
your  mummy  find  out  about  him  " ;  but  she  refrained. 
What  was  done  was  done,  and  what  is  is.  She  had 
ceased  believing  in  the  old  orthodox  religions.  She  had 
stopped  praying;  she  held  the  thought  instead.  She  had 
broken  away  from  the  faith  of  her  fathers  and  the  duties 
of  her  birthright.  After  many  years  of  struggle  she 
had  succeeded  in  making  the  old  club  speech  come  true 
as  concerned  herself — "  to  enjoy  life  and  therefore  jus- 
tify her  own  existence."  In  the  sense  life  she  had  con- 
vinced herself  lay  life's  greatest  and  deepest  meaning  — 
and  she  lived  accordingly.  The  optimistic  anaesthesia 

271 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

with  which  these  modern  shallow  cults  inspire  their  fol- 
lowers and  urge  them  to  adopt  had  become  Densie's  as 
well:  Everything  is  all  right,  there  is  nothing  but  good 
in  the  world,  and  infinite  plenty,  there  is  no  need  to  take 
heed  for  the  morrow  —  do  not  admit  the  possibility  of 
any  catastrophe  or  lack  of  worldly  goods  and  gains! 

And  Densie  lived  accordingly. 

Sally  moved  away.  A  sudden  impulse  made  Densie 
add :  "  Sally,  if  Rex  were  to  ask  you  to  marry  him  now  — 
knowing  all  you  do,  would  you  say  yes?  " 

And  she  was  terrified  at  the  wild  joy  that  came  into 
the  tired,  lovely  face. 

"  Oh,  mummy,  that  would  be  a  miracle !  "  Sally  said 
softly. 

So  Densie  straightway  began  to  hold  the  thought  to 
force  the  marriage  to  take  place.  She  met  the  senator 
that  afternoon  at  a  reception.  He  had  planned  his  ar- 
rival to  coincide  with  hers,  and  after  formal  greetings 
to  a  few  satellites  and  polite  bows  to  the  unwashed  — 
those  still  suffering  from  cabin  fever  and  at  the  stage 
where  Densie  had  been  when  she  volunteered  to  make  the 
biscuit  for  the  Opera  Reading  Club  —  they  found  them- 
selves outdoors  in  their  hostess's  charming  garden,  the 
warm  May  day  making  summer  seem  close  at  hand. 

"  By  Georgia,  you  are  lovely!  "  the  senator  began  ar- 
dently. He  was  looking  at  Densie's  eyes,  as  violety  as 
any  heroine's  this  day.  Her  frock  was  a  short-skirted 
old  rose  satin  and  she  wore  pearls  for  contrast.  A 
floppy  lace  hat  completed  the  creation. 

'  You  look  just  twenty-one,"  he  insisted  chivalrously. 

"  Sh-h,  and  you  know  my  age,"  she  warned. 

"  I  thought  we  could  pick  our  own  ages  when  we 
played  —  like  children  do  when  they  say,  '  I  am  the  king 
and  you  are  the  queen' — isn't  that  the  idea?" 

272 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

;<  What  a  boy  you  are !  I  don't  believe  you'll  ever 
stop  playing.  It  is  very  enticing,  but  it  makes  me  want 
to  play  always  as  well,  and " 

She  paused,  at  once  conscious  that  she  had  betrayed 
herself. 

"  Don't  you  know  how  lonesome  I  am?  "  he  began, 
putting  his  hand  on  hers. 

"  Please,  please,  my  dear  —  we  are  staid,  middle-aged 
persons  —  I  with  grown  children  and  you  with  blessed 
memories." 

She  stood  up  and  began  to  point  out  the  sky  line. 
'  Then  tell  me  what   I   can  do  for  you.     I'm  never 
happy  these  last  two  years  unless  I'm  doing  something 
for  Densie  Plummer,"  he  begged. 

"  Jim,  if  we  could  get  Sally  straightened  out,"  she 
said,  sitting  down  again.  She  had  called  him  by  his  first 
name  for  more  than  a  year. 

"  Is  it  that  cad  of  a  Humberstone  she  still  wants?  " 

Densie  nodded.  "  It  is  the  one  great  love  of  her 
heart  —  she  is  like  myself.  Torn  and  tattered  as  it  may 
be,  disgraced  and  irregular,  it  is  there  —  way  deep!" 

The  senator's  eyes  flashed  dangerously.  "  Is  it  right 
to  cling  to  these  torn  and  tattered  loves,  my  dear?  " 

"  It  may  not  be  right,  but  it  is  not  in  our  hands  —  not 
for  such  women  as  Sally  and  me." 

"  How  does  she  know  she  cares  for  him  —  that  she 
could  not  come  to  see  the  contrast?  " 

"  I  used  to  hope  for  it,  but  the  boy  who  loved  her 
enough  to  understand  and  overlook  her  foolishness  with 
Rex  has  gone  away  and  has  made  a  place  for  himself. 
Men  don't  remember  for  years  —  particularly  when  a 
girl  has  laughed  at  their  love  and  then  sent  them  away. 
That  is  what  my  Sally  did." 

"  Suppose,"  said  the  senator  thoughtfully,  "  I  find  ou* 

273 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

more  about  Rex;  perhaps  we  can  convince  Sally  that  she 
is  safer  with  her  mother." 

"  Jim,  you'd  try  to  capture  the  moon  for  me,  if  I 
asked  you;  I  never  used  to  dream  of  being  such  a  cap- 
tivating old  lady!  " 

"  If  I  do  —  capture  the  moon,  let  us  say  —  what  is 
my  reward?  Will  you  let  me  speak?  You  know  I  have 
wanted  to  for  a  long  time." 

"  Oh,  no!"  She  stood  up  abruptly.  "I  cannot  lis- 
ten any  more." 

"  You  mean  you  don't  dare,"  he  corrected,  catching  up 
to  her.  "  Well,  I  can  wait.  I've  waited  two  years 
now." 

Something  in  the  way  he  spoke  reminded  her  of  Dean 
Laddbarry's  patient  whole-souled  manner,  and  for  the 
first  time  she  understood  Sally's  tragedy,  the  impossi- 
bility of  loving  someone  ever  and  ever  so  much  worthier, 
perhaps,  than  the  one  to  whom  your  heart  is  given.  Yet 
such  is  the  way  of  women ! 


274 


XXVIII 

In  July  Harriet  came  up  for  a  vacation.  It  was  the 
first  satisfactory  vacation  she  had  ever  spent  with  her 
family.  The  apartment  being  too  small  to  accommo- 
date a  guest  —  shades  of  those  stately  guest  rooms  at 
The  Evergreens  which  always  welcomed  everyone !  —  so 
she  took  a  room  at  a  near-by  hotel  and  visited  with  her 
family  at  her  own  convenience. 

Densie  and  her  elder  daughter  had  much  in  common, 
though  Harriet  disliked  her  mother's  display  of  clothes 
and  her  pink-tea  side  of  life.  Densie  liked  the  clothes 
and  the  pink  teas;  she  deliberately  planned  for  them. 
She  enjoyed  coming  fashionably  late  into  a  warm  can- 
dle-lighted, flower-scented  room  with  every  prominent 
woman  in  the  city  waiting  to  exclaim  over  her,  and  the 
flock  of  cabin-fever  victims  to  gaze  with  awe  and  admira- 
tion. She  liked  taking  an  eggshell  cup  of  tea  and  half  a 
macaroon  and  standing  in  the  center  of  the  floor  to  tell 
easily  yet  forcibly  of  the  President's  last  letter,  and  Jane 
Addams'  invitation  to  visit  Hull  House,  and  the  work  she 
had  just  completed  along  the  fines  of  eugenics.  Densie 
used  almost  to  laugh  at  herself  while  she  was  doing 
this  —  but  it  never  stopped  her  from  continuing. 

And  at  the  proper  moment  Senator  James  Gleason 
was  announced,  only  to  hurry  by  the  receiving  line  to 
j-each  Densie  and  say  tenderly:  "  Thank  goodness  you've 
come!  Where  can  we  have  a  talk?  I'm  hungry  to  see 
you." 

275 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

She  liked  it  when  the  hostess  would  say,  "  Thank  you 
so  much  for  coming,  Mrs.  Plummer.  You  made  my 
little  affair  a  success."  Which  was,  in  a  large  measure, 
the  truth.  She  knew  how  to  meet  and  analyze  people, 
to  make  them  like  her  without  winning  the  description 
of  being  ostentatious  or  self-pushing.  Former  satellites 
like  Mrs.  Worthington  Prescott  and  Mrs.  Naomi  Win- 
ters were  given  but  a  brief  nod,  which  was  all  their  posi- 
tion in  clubdom  entitled  them  to  have.  She  knew  people 
said  that  her  husband  was  beneath  her  and  never  men- 
tioned him  in  her  presence,  but  laid  special  stress  on  Har- 
riet's brilliancy  and  Kenneth's  promise  of  success  —  just 
like  his  dear  little  mother. 

Whenever  Densie  entertained  she  did  it  at  the  best 
hotel  in  some  white-and-gold  parlor  with  an  array  of 
white-capped  maids  and  uniformed  bell  hops  to  do  her 
bidding.  She  enjoyed  the  frothy  side  of  her  life. 

Harriet  smiled  at  it  indulgently  and  consented  to 
have  a  luncheon  given  for  her,  at  which  she  heard  noth- 
ing but  her  mother's  praises  sung  between  bites  of  salad 
and  sips  of  fruit  punch. 

Sally  and  Harriet  stayed  away  from  each  other  as 
much  as  it  was  possible.  Sally  realized  that  in  Harriet's 
eyes  she  was  still  the  jellyfish,  and  Harriet  looked  at 
Sally  as  an  economic  waste  and  devoted  her  energies  to 
inspiring  Kenneth  with  socialistic  ideas.  For  the  first 
time  Harriet  took  an  interest  in  Kenneth.  For  her  fa- 
ther she  bought  cigars  and  slippers  and  kissed  him  gin- 
gerly on  his  cheek  at  parting.  "  Poor  daddy,"  she 
said —  as  she  had  once  said,  "  Poor  mummy!  " 

She  told  Leila  upon  her  return,  "  Daddy  is  a  sort  of 
high-class  low-brow  —  if  you  know  what  I'm  driving 
at.  His  tastes  and  ideas  run  to  cribbage,  pedro,  detec- 
tive stories,  poems  that  rhyme,  thick  steaks,  musical  come- 

276 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

dies  and  good  ready-made  suits  and  a  vacation  spent  at 
a  sanitarium !  Now  mummy  has  become  a  low-class 
high-brow  —  smart  frocks,  the  latest  popular  essays, 
golf,  formal  hotel  affairs,  social  dramas  and  national 
committees,  tours  of  the  Yellowstone." 

And  though  she  did  not  add  anything  more  she  was 
thinking  that  she  herself  was  a  high-class  highbrow,  given 
over  to  crumpled  linen  smocks,  diet  sheets,  Egyptology, 
prison  reform,  monotone  song  cycles  and  walking  trips 
through  Norway!  She  was  not  at  all  sure  as  to  Sally 
and  Kenneth. 

Leila  agreed  with  her,  as  usual;  and  having  unpacked 
her  trunk  and  her  mind  at  the  same  time  Harriet  took  up 
her  round  of  duties. 

War  broke  out  the  week  following  her  return.  After 
the  first  horror,  yet  approval,  Densie  found  added  ac- 
tivities given  into  her  keeping.  She  was  made  chair- 
man of  the  National  Relief  Work,  and  before  three 
months  elapsed  she  decided  to  make  the  third  drastic 
move.  She  sold  the  exchange  outright  for  a  very  fair 
sum,  and  they  adjourned  to  a  hotel  without  a  pretense  of 
a  home  such  as  the  flimsy  little  kitchenette.  They  had 
their  own  rooms,  disconnected,  and  a  living  room  for 
Densie's  special  use.  Every  old  thing  was  thrown  away 
that  had  strayed  into  the  apartment-house  locker.  The 
furniture  was  taken  to  a  hotel  because  the  rooms  had 
looked  shabby  to  Densie's  mind.  But  at  last  they  were 
on  a  final  basis  of  living,  she  told  everyone.  She  did 
not  have  to  wonder  who  cleaned  the  windows  or  if  the 
electric  toaster  was  in  working  order.  From  being  the 
mainstay  of  a  house-and-garden  existence  Densie  Plum- 
mer  had  finally  re-ordered  her  life  so  that  the  only  do- 
mestic duty  confronting  her  was  to  lock  away  her  per- 
fumes from  beauty-loving  chambermaids. 

277 


Maude  Hatton  died  in  the  asylum  the  day  after  they 
moved,  and  Sally  was  commissioned  to  take  flowers  and 
act  as  chief  mourner.  She  delegated  someone  else  in  her 
place;  funerals  made  her  creepy,  she  explained  to  her 
mother.  With  slight  regret  Densie  dismissed  the  mat- 
ter from  her  mind.  The  war  promised  to  crowd  her 
days  and  nights  to  overflowing,  and  she  had  no  time  to 
become  maudlinly  sentimental.  She  was  almost  amused 
at  John's  grave  face  when  he  heard  the  news  about  the 
old  lady.  She  did  not  know  until  long  afterward  that 
he  had  been  Sally's  understudy  at  the  funeral. 


278 


XXIX 

The  first  year  of  the  war  brought  Densie  nothing  but 
success  and  honors,  for  she  showed  her  capability  under 
the  great  stress  and  turmoil.  She  became  indifferent  to 
the  social  side  of  her  club  life,  it  was  all  relief  work, 
which  she  organized  and  conducted  on  astoundingly  gi- 
gantic lines.  She  wrote  stirring  appeals  to  the  people, 
directed  a  campaign  by  which  she  raised  enormous  funds, 
and  was  given  a  letter  of  warmest  appreciation  by  the 
French  President. 

Other  interests  were  secondary  and  faint.  She 
scarcely  thought  of  her  clothes  or  her  former  pleasures. 
While  France  ran  scarlet  she  could  do  nothing  but  aid 
the  suffering.  The  senator  was  no  whit  behind  her  in 
his  efforts.  He  had  helped  Densie  somewhat  into  her 
positions,  but  she  merited  his  so  doing.  She  was 
looked  upon  as  the  leader  in  war-relief  work  —  as  well 
as  having  the  courage  to  predict  and  hope  for  America's 
entrance  into  the  strife,  to  declare  herself  with  the  Allies 
and  to  prepare  people  for  sacrifice  and  thrift. 

"  I  cannot  be  neutral,"  she  was  quoted  as  saying.  "  I 
see  but  the  one  position  for  America  —  hide-and-go-seek- 
a-Hun!  As  soon  as  the  national  pulse  permits,  the  lead- 
ers will  see  that  this  position  is  assumed." 

Which  attitude  lost  her  many  followers  and  gained  her 
many  staunch  friends.  John  and  Densie  came  to  open 
argument  concerning  this  issue.  John  took  the  attitude, 
"  It  is  their  war  over  there  —  let  them  settle  it.  Don't 
go  sending  our  boys  to  be  killed  for  them."  To  which 

279 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  with  unprecedented  fury  told  him  he  was  a 
coward  and  asked  if  he  would  not  fight  for  civilization 
if  he  could  be  convinced  that  civilization  and  ideals  were 
the  issues  at  stake? 

"  Yes,  if  I  could  be  convinced,"  he  said,  "  but  I'm  not." 
And  he  went  over  his  straw  arguments,  which  Densie 
swept  aside  by  forceful  statements  of  the  truth. 

"  We'll  not  mention  the  war,  then,"  John  ended  hotly. 
"  I've  got  a  right  to  my  opinion,  even  if  I  am  Mrs.  Den- 
sie Plummer's  husband!  " 

So  Densie  agreed.  She  saw  no  economically  useful 
thing  John  could  do,  so  there  was  no  purpose  in  trying 
to  convert  him.  He  was  so  personal  about  this  war, 
whereas  the  great  thing  was  to  be  impersonal  and  think 
of  oneself  last. 

Besides,  something  happened  in  the  family  which  com- 
pletely distracted  Densie  for  the  time  being.  Rex  Hum- 
berstone  and  Sally  were  married. 

Sally  had  come  to  her  mother  as  soon  as  she  returned 
from  a  busy  afternoon  of  appointments.  As  soon  as 
Densie  saw  her  she  was  startled  —  there  was  an  almost 
girlish  look  of  happiness  on  Sally's  face,  and  the  cynicism 
had  faded  from  the  eyes. 

"  You  must  take  time  to  listen  to  me,"  she  begged  as 
if  she  were  a  child  again. 

"  What  has  happened  —  you  seem  so  happy?  Come 
in  my  room  while  I  slip  on  a  negligee  and  lie  down 
for  forty  winks  —  I've  a  dinner  on  to-night." 

"  No,  you  cannot  go  to  the  dinner.  You  have  some- 
thing more  important  close  at  hand,"  Sally  almost  sang 
the  words,  she  fairly  danced  into  her  mother's  room, 
shutting  the  door  and  standing  with  her  back  against 
it.  "Guess  —  can't  you?  Like  you  used  to  when  we 
were  little?  " 

280 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  This  must  be  some  extraordinary  happening.  I 
haven't  seen  you  like  this  for  years,"  Densie  laid  her 
wraps  aside.  "  Do  tell  me  instanter." 

"  Rex  wants  to  marry  me  as  soon  as  I  will."  There 
was  a  quiver  in  Sally's  voice.  She  was  all  Sally  Plum- 
mer  again,  the  Sally  who  was  born  cuddled  and  who 
loved  to  be  alive  to  just  see  what  would  happen  next. 

"  Rex  Humberstone !  "  Densie  spoke  his  name  in- 
credulously; she  did  not  understand  his  sudden  romantic 
spurt.  It  had  been  so  long  since  she  had  actually 
worried  about  it  or  spent  sleepless  nights  in  prayer  that 
it  was  like  turning  back  the  calendar.  She  did  not  like 
the  sensation. 

"  You  see,  mummy,  he  was  away  on  business."  Sally 
awkwardly  picked  up  her  mother's  beringed  hand,  highly 
manicured  and  even  whiter  than  Sally's,  and  tried  to 
fondle  it.  But  she  did  not  come  to  nestle  in  Densie's 
arms  as  she  had  been  taught  to  do.  No  one  nestled  in 
Densie's  arms,  not  even  the  orphans  for  whom  she  val- 
iantly fought  for  proper  living  conditions.  "  He  was 
ill  while  he  was  at  a  hotel  and  he  said  he  suddenly  felt 
that  he  had  been  wasting  time  and  he  loved  me  more 
than  he  ever  realized  and  he  wondered  very  humbly,  he 
said" — the  gold  eyes  were  pitiful  in  their  proud  de- 
light— "if  it  was  too  late  to  ask  me  to  be  his  wife. 
And  mummy  darling,  you  must  know  how  happy  I  am  — 
right  here  —  in  the  heart  of  me.  I  wouldn't  care  if 
Rex  were  a  hundred  years  old,  he  would  still  be  Rex 
Humberstone,  and  he  wants  me  for  his  wife !  " 

She  closed  her  eyes  to  hide  tears;  but  Densie  saw  them. 

Undecided  as  to  her  attitude  Densie  said  quickly, 
"  So  he  has  taken  eleven  years  to  be  sure  he  loves  you  — 
eleven  years  and  an  attack  of  grippe,  I  presume,  in  a 
hotel  with  a  bell  hop  as  his  only  solace." 

281 


She  shrugged  her  trim  little  shoulders  in  as  superior 
fashion  as  Harriet  herself  could  have  done. 

Sally  opened  her  eyes  to  stare  at  her.  "  Mummy, 
how  can  you  —  how  dare  you?  You've  no  right  to 
speak  of  my  husband  in  that  way." 

"  I  cannot  help  speaking  the  truth.  I  cannot  approve 
of  such  a  marriage.  I  thought  you  were  disillusioned 
yourself,  merely  keeping  up  appearances.  If  you 
wanted  to  be  a  trained  nurse  for  the  aged  I  could  have 
secured  you  a  much  better  position  in  a  state  institution." 

Densie  regretted  the  words  as  soon  as  they  were 
spoken.  But  it  was  too  late.  It  was  really  the  con- 
flict between  her  warm  mother's  heart  protesting  at  her 
child's  degrading  herself  by  such  an  alliance  and  Densie's 
newly  acquired  personality  —  a  showy,  clever,  hard  per- 
sonality, excellent  armor  for  these  warm,  mother  hearts, 
it  is  true.  So  often  an  acquired  personality  is  at  con- 
stant war  with  one's  own  self! 

"  I  shall  not  bother  you  again."  The  cynical  look  re- 
turned to  Sally's  eyes. 

"When  will  you  be  married?"  Densie  asked 
quickly. 

"  As  soon  as  I  can  be  ready,"  was  the  retort. 

"  I  will  buy  your  clothes " 

"  I  wish  none  of  your  money.  My  husband  can  pro- 
vide properly  for  me."  Sally  hesitated,  then  all  the 
faded-young  in  her  shamed  and  injured  self  rose  to  the 
surface.  "  And  if  we  have  taken  eleven  years  to  know 
our  own  minds  " —  already  she  had  generously  substi- 
tuted the  pronoun  we  for  I  — "  we  shan't  be  as  liable  to 
come  a  cropper  as  you  seem  to  have  done.  After  all, 
mummy,"  she  ended  with  a  mocking  little  laugh,  "  it  is 
a  bit  thick,  at  your  age,  to  be  tied  to  a  grocer  clerk  while 

282 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

a  perfectly  good  United  States  senator  is  ready  to  lay 
down  and  die  for  you." 

After  which  she  flounced  out  of  the  room,  banging  the 
door. 

Densie  tried  to  control  her  temper.  This  was  mod- 
ern respect  for  parents;  this  clear-sighted,  brutal,  slang- 
ish  analysis  of  things  of  one's  heart.  For  a  long  time 
the  warm  flowing  current  struggled  to  conquer  the  coat- 
ing of  ice,  but  the  ice  won.  Densie's  new  personality 
was  paramount.  She  lay  down  to  rest  and  try  to  sleep, 
but  she  kept  thinking  that  she  must  buy  Sally  proper 
clothes  and  give  her  a  proper  wedding.  She  supposed 
they  would  live  at  a  hotel,  which  would  be  the  best  thing 
as  Sally  did  not  know  how  to  keep  house.  Densie  must 
have  a  new  gown  for  the  wedding,  and  John  new  clothes. 
It  would  be  satisfactory  in  a  certain  measure  to  be  able 
to  refer  to,  "  My  daughter,  Mrs.  Humberstone."  Den- 
sie had  learned  how  to  say  such  things  within  earshot  of 
the  proper  persons  and  at  the  proper  time.  If  Sally 
so  loved  this  man  that  she  was  willing  to  wait  in  wretched 
loneliness  all  her  days  rather  than  marry  anyone  else  — 
perhaps  it  was  better  that  she  be  unhappily  married.  It 
was  better  for  Densie  because  it  took  Sally  completely  off 
her  hands.  Harriet  would  never  be  married  —  that  was 
to  be  expected,  and  Densie  approved  of  Harriet's  career. 
But  Sally,  who  had  given  her  heart  too  generously  and 
had  done  nothing  of  account,  it  was  better  to  have  Sally 
off  her  hands. 

She  wondered  what  John  would  say  about  it.  Very 
likely  indifferent,  since  he  had  begun  to  pity  himself  with 
such  gusto  and  also  to  locate  new  and  complicated  com- 
plaints. A  liver  trouble  furnished  him  with  food  for 
speculation  Saturday  half  holidays.  Besides,  nothing  he 

283 


might  say  would  matter  —  which  he  knew,  and  which 
might  partially  explain  his  indifference.  Densie  smiled 
as  she  thought  of  John,  for  she  recalled  the  report  of 
Iris  Starr's  recent  marriage  to  a  successful  merchant,  and 
John's  discomfiture  when  the  news  had  reached  him. 
Densie  had  seen  that  the  paper  was  hanging  over  his 
chair  arm! 

With  Sally  married  —  here  Densie  began  to  plan  for 
Sally's  wedding  dress  and  her  own  costume  and  for 
Sally's  rooms  and  to  think  of  all  the  good  things  she 
could  about  Rex  and  try  to  soften  and  excuse  the  bad  — 
there  was  really  only  her  beloved  boy  and  herself  to 
consider  in  the  future.  Life  was  rather  satisfactory, 
take  it  all  in  all  —  if  one  learned  how  to  play  the  game. 

Densie  glanced  about  her  room,  contrasting  it  with 
the  Peep  o'  Day  Room  at  the  Little  House,  with  the 
carved  black-walnut  set  and  the  marble-topped  dresser, 
the  family  portraits,  the  framed  wedding  certificate  and 
sampler,  the  old  round  table  with  the  double-burner 
lamp,  the  plate  of  knives  and  apples  for  John's  repast; 
how  he  would  sit  in  a  big  chair  beside  the  table,  peeling 
his  bedtime  apple  and  saying,  "  Well,  mother,  I  met  a 
man  to-day  that  we  both  know."  And  Densie  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table  would  stop  her  sewing  to 
answer,  "  Tell  me  who  he  was,  dear!  " 

She  shook  her  head.  The  contrast  was  indeed  a  vivid 
one.  The  bedroom  had  just  been  done  over  to  suit 
Densie's  latest  notion  —  the  chairs  were  Chinese  blue 
with  silver-thread  embroidery  and  the  dressing  table  and 
bed  of  gilt  with  handsome  tapestry  drapes  and  coverings. 
Her  dressing  table  sparkled  with  silver-backed  brushes 
and  silver-topped  bottles  as  gayly  as  any  actress'  —  in- 
deed, her  make-uo  box  quite  resembled  a  Broadway 

284 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

star's.  She  had  artificial  roses  in  a  handsome  vase,  and 
fresh  cut  flowers  which  the  senator  had  sent  her.  Her 
costumer  showed  elaborate,  daintily  made  garments. 
The  pictures  on  the  walls  were  artistically  framed  prints 
and  a  photograph  of  the  senator  and  one  of  Kenneth. 
The  rugs  were  small  affairs,  like  velvet  and  of  Persian 
pattern,  and  there  was  an  elaborate  hammered-copper 
chafing  dish  and  vacuum  bottle  on  a  stand.  This  was 
all  that  remained  of  Densie's  one-time  well-ordered  and 
hospitable  kitchen !  Bookcases  were  piled  with  reading 
matter  and  a  dainty  lamp  was  beside  her  bed.  Her 
negligee  was  a  creamy,  silky  thing  with  old-gold  tassels 
and  slippers  to  match,  and  she  smiled  with  contented 
pride  as  she  looked  across  into  the  pier  glass,  where  she 
could  see  herself  reflected. 

"  Oh,  mum,  are  you  in?  "  Kenneth's  newly  acquired 
lusty  bass  roared  the  words  from  without. 

Densie's  face  brightened.  "  Oh,  son,  I  am,"  she  an- 
swered gayly. 

He  burst  into  the  room.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  disturb 
you,"  he  began  —  he  was  in  the  toils  of  getting  dressed 
for  the  evening  and  was  wrestling  with  that  blight  on 
masculine  civilization,  the  refractory  collar  button  — 
"  only  Sally  is  in  one  of  her  high-steppers  and  won't 
speak  to  me  and  I'm  late  now.  Can  you  fix  it?  Ah, 
thanks,  mummy."  He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  while 
Densie  rose  and  stood  before  him  to  fasten  the  collar 
deftly  into  place. 

"  There,  my  dear  —  you  look  very  nice.  By  the  way, 
did  Sally  tell  you  any  news?  " 

She  gazed  at  him  fondly.  Kenneth  at  twenty  had  the 
poised  appearance  of  twenty-five.  Contrary  to  his  fa- 
ther's pessimistic  belief  that  he  was  to  be  a  man  milliner 

285 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

or  a  tenor  he  had  developed  into  a  tall  athletic  person 
with  very  golden  hair,  much  to  his  horror,  deeply  set 
dark  eyes  and  a  square,  blue-black  chin. 

"  No;  she  just  remarked  I  was  naught  but  a  low  order 
of  animal  life  or  words  to  that  effect,  so  I  beat  it  —  I 
suppose  she's  rowed  with  Rex  again." 

"  No  —  with  mother,"  said  Densie  mischievously. 
These  two  were  always  a  trifle  closer  than  any  other  two 
persons,  since  they  could  discuss  anything  and  be  sure 
to  remain  friends. 

41  What  was  up  —  wanted  another  hat?" 

"No;  she's  to  marry  Rex  soon."  Densie  waited  for 
his  verdict. 

He  whistled  softly.  "  If  she's  going  to  marry  him  — 
it's  good-by,  Sally.  I  can  see  it  all  now.  Six  months 
of  Rex  and  Sally  will  hate  him."  Kenneth  frowned. 
"Didn't  you  tell  her  that?" 

"  I  suggested  that  eleven  years  is  ample  time  for  a 
middle-aged  man  to  make  up  his  mind  to  marry  a  girl  — 
but  it  seems  that  it  was  all  brought  about  by  his  being 
ill  in  a  hotel  and  he  felt  he  was  getting  old  and  it  would 
be  rather  convenient  to  have  Sally  about.  Ken,  I  wish 
you  were  older  than  your  sister;  you  might  have  influ- 
enced her  long  ago." 

"  No  one  can  influence  anyone  that's  in  love,"  Kenneth 
told  her  patronizingly.  "  It  is  Sally's  problem  —  and 
a  pretty  dance  she's  led  us  all  for  a  long  time.  Do  you 
remember,"  he  chuckled,  "  the  day  you  came  home  from 
New  York  and  Sally  had  just  met  him  and  I  told  you  he 
reminded  me  of  the  wealthy  black  dog?  I've  never 
changed  my  idea,  even  if  he  is  my  future  brother-in-law." 
'  We  must  make  the  best  of  it  —  and  don't  try  to 
argue  with  her." 

;' Who  ever  argues  with  old  maids?"  Kenneth 

286 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

boldly  helped  himself  to  a  little  of  his  mother's  best  co- 
logne. "  Poor  old  Sally,  that's  what  she  is  —  I  cannot 
see  the  fun  of  loving  someone  like  Rex."  Kenneth  grew 
strangely  dreamy. 

Densie  was  quick  to  catch  the  expression.  "  Are  you 
in  love,  dear?"  And  despite  this  new  and  shielding 
personality  of  hers  and  this  wonderful  ice  coating  as  ar- 
mor for  her  own  warm  heart  and  flowing  current  she 
felt  strangely  pained  —  and  jealous  of  the  girl  whom 
Kenneth  should  love. 

"  I'm  halfway  in  love  " —  he  came  to  put  his  arms 
round  her  — "  but  I've  watched  Sally  for  a  long  time, 
and  I  made  up  my  mind,  mummy,  not  to  go  falling  in 
love  like  she  did  unless  the  other  chap  is  going  to  care 
just  a  little  too.  It  is  too  tough  on  —  on  everybody." 
He  beamed  down  at  his  mother  from  his  six-foot  su- 
premacy. "  You've  changed  lots,  mummy,  because  of 
Sally — more  than  you  know;  and  because  of  father  and 
that  fool  of  an  Iris  Starr.  I  can  understand  now." 

"Who  is  she?" 

Densie's  past  problems  and  present  readjusted  condi- 
tions seemed  like  tissue  paper  against  an  iron  wall  as 
compared  to  Kenneth's  loving  someone  more  dearly  than 
herself. 

"  She's  a  little  blonde  girl  —  Geraldine  Poole  —  very, 
very  beautiful  —  but  she's  not  given  me  much  encourage- 
ment. She  is  twenty  too.  I  can't  seem  to  find  out  how 
I  stand.  I'm  not  going  to  make  her  love  me  unless  she 
wants  to  —  it  does  not  pay  for  anyone  to  do  that  in  the 
long  run.  I'm  going  right  ahead  and  get  my  appoint- 
ment through  the  senator  and  learn  to  be  the  best  officer 
in  the  world,  because  I've  the  best  mummy  to  be  proud 
of  me  —  haven't  I?  And  I'm  proud  of  you,  mummy  — 

and  all  you've  done " 

287 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  You're  only  twenty,  darling,  and  that  is  so  young." 

"  Dad  was  married  then,"  the  boy  reminded. 

"  But  it  was  different " 

"  Well,  is  the  new  sort  of  different  about  such  things 
better  than  the  old?  " 

"  I  stopped  wondering  about  it,  my  boy;  it  was  ruining 
my  complexion,"  she  forced  herself  to  say  lightly;  "  and 
with  a  new  romance  in  the  making  and  Sally's  wedding 
at  hand  I've  a  lot  to  do  and  think  about." 

"  I  wonder  if  you'll  ever  marry  again?  "  he  asked  sud- 
denly. 

"  Kenneth !  " 

"  You  know  I  mean  the  senator  —  he  loves  you  very 
much,"  he  told  her  in  a  confidential,  modern  fashion,  as 
if  he  were  telling  a  classmate,  "  but  I  don't  believe  — 
somehow  —  that  you  will.  I  don't  know  why.  You've 
every  reason  in  the  world  —  I  know  dad  hasn't  made 
good  —  but " 

Densie  was  silent.  When  a  child  and  a  parent  begin 
to  criticize  and  openly  discuss  the  other  parent  the  dignity 
of  the  relationship  is  shattered.  So  Densie  was  silent, 
standing  tiptoe  to  kiss  her  tall  young  son. 

"  My  day  is  over,"  she  said  softly;  "  I've  other  things 
I  must  satisfy  myself  with !  " 

"  But  if  he  asks  you,  mummy,"  the  boy  ended  impul- 
sively, "  be  good  to  him,  because  he  cares  so  hard.  It 
must  be  rough  to  let  yourself  care  hard  and  have  it  end 
in  defeat." 

"  It  is,"  his  mother  supplemented  quietly. 


288 


XXX 

That  night  Densie  found  John  sitting  alone  in  the 
little  salon  —  it  was  no  longer  disgraced  by  the  title  of 
living  room  —  reading  papers  and  tossing  them  rest- 
lessly on  the  floor.  He  wore  a  frayed  dressing  gown; 
he  had  others,  but  he  clung  without  rhyme  or  reason  as 
men  do  to  one  certain  dressing  gown  or  one  particularly 
distressing  necktie,  refusing  to  abandon  them  until  they 
are  taken  unawares  by  a  scheming  wife  and  a  willing 
clothes  peddler.  His  grizzled  hair  had  turned  quite 
white  and  there  were  more  harsh  new  lines  across  his 
forehead.  John  had  become  gruff  in  manner,  brief,  al- 
most sullen  and  seldom  given  to  expressing  an  opinion. 

"  Oh,  hello,"  he  said  tersely  as  she  came  in.  "  Sam 
Hippler  is  dead 1  got  a  letter  to-day." 

"  Really? "  Densie  sat  in  a  chair  opposite  him, 
throwing  back  her  evening  cloak  and  showing  a  silver- 
brocaded  geranium  satin  gown  which  suited  her  well. 
"  I'm  so  glad  —  he's  been  childish  a  long  time,  his  niece 
has  written.  What  a  wonderful  constitution  he  must 
have  had!" 

"  Poor  old  Sam,  he  tried  hard  to  keep  me  in  the  old 
ways."  John  gave  an  unpleasant  laugh.  "  I  suppose 
you  had  a  good  time,"  he  added  lamely. 

"No;  a  very  serious  time.  The  governor  was  there 
and  I  had  a  personal  audience  with  him  about  pardoning 
the  two  boys  sentenced  to  the  chair.  I  think  I  shall  win 
my  point,  but  not  without  effort  — 

"  I  suppose  the  senator  will  help."  John's  lips  folded 

289 


into  a  thin  line;  it  robbed  his  face  of  the  last  glimmer  of 
pleasantness  left  to  it. 

"He  will  do  everything  he  can;  still,  he  is  not  the 
governor.  I  am  particularly  anxious  to  gain  my  point, 
because  I  firmly  believe  that  one  boy  is  a  mental  defec- 
tive and  that  the  other  was  intoxicated  at  the  time  of  the 
shooting."  Densie  became  lost  in  reflection. 

"  I  had  a  good  time  to-day,  too  —  I  got  a  cut  in  sal- 
ary. I  can't  tote  barrels  into  the  cellar  if  a  delivery  man 
has  suddenly  left  or  attract  the  younger  women's  patron- 
age !  They'd  like  to  get  rid  of  me  —  so  they're  trying 
the  best  they  can.  Rotten,  cheating  firm  and  methods! 
Why,  the  stuff  they  sell  people,  Densie,  is  ridiculous  to 
call  by  any  dignified  name  such  as  tea  and  coffee,  and 
Uncle  Herbert  would  have  considered  their  extracts 
poison.  I  don't  see  how  they  can  get  it  across." 

"  Of  course,"  Densie  said  in  a  very  preoccupied  man- 
ner. Any  mention  of  the  store  or  John's  affairs  irritated 
her;  she  had  once  longed  to  be  told  any  details,  but  the 
pendulum  had  swung  to  the  other  extreme.  "  How 
much  did  they  cut  you?" 

'To  fifteen  a  week  —  and  in  these  times!  Jolly, 
isn't  it?  "  He  threw  the  newspapers  off  his  lap.  "  By 
God,  this  is  no  age  for  an  old  man  —  or  woman !  "  he 
said  forcibly.  "  I  wish  I  had  Sam  Hippler's  wooden 
overcoat." 

"  Don't  speak  in  such  a  fashion,"  Densie  told  him 
sharply. 

Coming  from  a  perfectly  appointed  public  banquet  at 
which  she  sat  next  the  governor  and  had  been  toast- 
mistress,  with  the  senator  at  her  side  to  whisper  the 
right  thing  at  the  right  moment  and  to  drive  her  home  — 
to  come  into  her  own  box  of  a  place,  supported  by  her- 
self, and  find  as  a  welcome  this  disgruntled,  unlovely  hus- 

290 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

hand,  sullen  and  weary  and  jealous  through  no  fault  of 
hers,  it  seemed  —  was  it  quite  fair?  Ought  she  to  con- 
tinue conditions? 

"  I  never  speak  in  a  way  to  please  you,  do  I?  "  He 
turned  to  look  at  her  directly.  She  had  not  really  looked 
at  John  for  a  long  time,  and  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were 
dead  looking  —  it  rather  startled  her. 

'  We  no  longer  agree,  that  is  all.  I  speak  to  please 
other  people,  but  never  you  —  and  it  is  the  same  with 
yourself." 

"  I'm  in  the  way,"  he  said  coarsely,  standing  up  before 
the  mantel.  "  A  shabby  old  clerk  and  a  brilliant  club- 
woman were  never  meant  to  use  the  same  latchkey. 
Once  " —  his  face  grew  flushed  and  she  knew  what  it 
cost  him  to  say  the  words  — "  once  I  was  a  fool  about  a 
woman;  a  second-rate,  cowardly  adventuress  —  that's 
all  she  was.  I  asked  you  to  divorce  me  when  the  boy 
was  of  age,  and  then  I  lost  out  in  the  firm  and  she 
promptly  sent  me  packing.  Gad,  I  went  to  her  expecting 
sympathy  and  help,  and  she  turned  away  as  if  I  were  a 
leper!  Well,  I  don't  say  but  what  you've  the  right  to 
ask  for  your  freedom  —  do  you  want  it?  " 

Densie  hesitated.  She  was  thinking  of  the  senator's 
tender,  fine  face,  the  gentle  voice  with  its  latent  power 
and  understanding,  the  lonely  mansion  where  he  never 
lived  because  it  had  no  mistress,  as  he  had  explained 
meaningly,  the  yacht,  the  motors,  the  hundred  and  one 
fleshpots  after  which  Densie  had  come  to  hanker. 

"  I  would  rather  not  say  to-night,"  she  answered 
presently. 

"  You  don't  say,  though,  that  you  don't  want  your 
freedom!  " 

"No;  I  could  not  say  I  refused  your  offer.  Let  us 
wait  a  little." 

291 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  I'll  clear  off  if  you  like.  It's  no  pleasure  to  be  the 
4  old  man  '  in  the  eyes  of  the  hotel,  to  sneak  to  my  rooms 
and  eat  at  side  lunch  shops  rather  than  in  the  dining 
room.  Everyone  knows  I  can't  pay  the  bills,  that  you're 
the  head  of  the  family.  I'm  an  old  clerk,  way  out  of 
step  with  the  times.  They  pity  you  —  I've  heard  what 
they  say.  The  children  don't  want  to  go  out  with  me, 
and  Harriet  sends  me  a  postal  signed  by  an  initial!  O 
my  God,  I've  made  a  mess  of  it!  " 

Without  warning  he  turned  and  buried  his  head  on 
the  mantel,  sobbing  hoarsely. 

The  warm  flowing  current  fairly  beat  against  the  ice- 
coated  covering  in  battle  —  but  the  ice  coating  was  the 
victor. 

u  I  wish  you  would  not  speak  like  that;  it  is  unneces- 
sary. I  choose  to  live  in  my  own  way  and  I  am  perfectly 
content  to  pay  for  it.  I  am  happy.  I  have  no  wish  to 
make  you  otherwise.  As  for  the  children " —  she 
shrugged  her  shoulders — "  they  are  beyond  either  of  us. 
If  you  wish  to  go  away  say  what  you  want  to  do,  I  will 
help  you.  I  also  wanted  to  tell  you  some  news  if  you 
are  in  a  mood  to  listen." 

He  raised  his  haggard,  wistful  face. 

'  You're  as  human  as  a  marble  saint";  then  said  more 
to  himself:  "  Little  —  Densie  —  Plummer !  "  He  whis- 
pered this  last  but  she  knew  as  she  winced  within  of 
what  he  was  thinking  —  the  days  at  The  Evergreens,  the 
first  rosy  romance  days  at  the  Little  House,  the  night 
that  Harriet,  new  and  very  wee,  lay  in  her  tired  happy 
arms  and  John  knelt  beside  her  in  adoration. 

"  Sally  is  to  marry  Rex  Humberstone  very  soon,"  she 
made  herself  finish  without  weakening.  "  She  told  me 
to-day."  She  did  not  add  that  Sally  had  fled  from  her 
also.  "  I  shall  be  glad  if  it  makes  her  happy.  I 

292 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

thought  you  ought  to  know.  You  might  want  to  talk  to 
her  —  or  to  Rex  —  or  something,"  she  concluded 
vaguely. 

"  I'm  damned  sorry,"  was  all  he  would  say,  turning 
back  to  his  pile  of  rumpled  papers  and  refusing  to  dis- 
cuss the  subject. 

The  senator  took  the  news  in  like  fashion.  It  an- 
noyed Densie  that  the  two  men,  so  unlike,  so  different  in 
her  own  estimate  of  their  worth,  should  agree  on  such 
a  vital  issue.  When  a  woman  begins  to  disapprove  her 
husband,  to  turn  her  rejected  love  into  critical  blame  and 
gradual  disinterest  she  takes  occasion  at  every  oppor- 
tunity to  drive  home  the  truth  to  l\er  own  rather  loyal 
but  helpless  heart  that  "  here  is  another  proof  of  his 
stupidity,  his  injustice,  his  idiocy,"  and  so  on,  and  ends 
a  staunch  convert  to  the  line  of  argument  that  she 
originally  set  out  to  prove. 

She  was  surprised  when  she  went  to  the  senator's  office 
the  next  morning  to  learn  further  details  as  to  pardoning 
the  boys  that  the  senator  took  the  news  of  the  pardoning 
lightly,  but  of  Sally's  intended  marriage  with  serious- 
ness. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  he  began,  "  don't  let  her  marry  that 
old  rascal.  He  is  crawling  to  cover  for  some  reason, 
for  he  would  never  marry  anyone  unless  it  was  ad- 
vantageous. Sad  as  little  Sally's  love  has  been  it  is  a 
far  saner  sort  of  '  sad  '  than  if  she  becomes  his  wife." 

Densie  demurred.  "  I've  made  myself  think  it  the 
proper  thing,"  she  insisted.  "  We  won't  talk  it  over  any 
more,  only  —  did  you  ever  find  out  anything  about 
him?" 

The  senator  shook  his  head.  "  A  downy  bird  — 
nearly  my  age  if  he  is  a  day!  Oh,  I'm  forgetting  — 
he's  only  a  boy,  then,  isn't  he?  And  other  people  I 

293 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

could  mention  are  only  girls !  "  Densie  felt  herself 
flushing  as  she  laughed. 

"  What's  on  your  calendar?  "  he  asked  as  she  pre- 
pared to  go.  "  Tell  us  what  your  day  with  Mrs.  Densie 
Plummer  is  going  to  be." 

"  My  days  are  all  so  crowded  I  haven't  time  to 
breathe."  She  was  glancing  in  the  mirror  at  her  trim 
little  self  in  a  smart  braided  serge  with  a  befeathered 
black  hat.  "  First,  I  must  drop  in  to  order  our  wedding 
finery.  Then  I've  a  committee  meeting  at  ten-thirty,  at 
half  after  eleven  I'm  due  at  the  school  board,  for  we've 
tiresome  detail  to  get  out  of  the  way.  There  is  a  suff- 
rage luncheon  to-day,  and  the  afternoon  is  all  eaten  up 
by  a  greedy  person  known  as  James  Gleason  who  wants 
to  take  me  out  for  a  long  drive.  I  must  be  back  by  five; 
the  golf  tournament  finishes  at  the  Park  Club,  and  I'm 
one  of  the  tea  hostesses.  The  dinner  to-night  is  at  the 
hotel;  I'm  entertaining  federation  officers.  They  won't 
leave  until  late,  and  then,  joy  of  joys,  I've  about  fifty 
high-school  essays  to  read,  being  a  judge  for  the  Humane 
Society's  Prize  Contest!  That  means  midnight  —  some 
letters  that  must  get  off,  and  a  glance  through  the  New 
York  papers.  Heigh-ho,  it's  a  gay  life." 

And  waving  a  gay  good-by  she  vanished  through  the 
doorway. 

The  senator  ran  into  the  corridor  —  quite  after  the 
fashion  of  Dean  and  Sally  in  the  old  days. 

"  One  moment,"  he  called;  "  I  have  an  amendment 
to  offer." 

"Oh,  do!" 

Densie  was  in  a  reckless  mood.  In  the  old  days  such 
a  reckless  mood  would  have  meant  that  she  would  coax 
John  not  to  work  in  the  afternoon,  and  packing  a  huge 
lunch,  together  with  hammocks  and  endless  wraps,  the 

294 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Plummer  family  would  have  adjourned  to  a  near-by  fish- 
ing grounds.  To-day  she  lingered  in  the  corridor  to 
listen  to  the  senator's  amendment. 

"  When  a  certain  mansion  captures  its  mistress  that 
mistress  will  not  be  permitted  to  peek  her  nose  outside 
the  door  for  any  committees;  she  is  sentenced  to  the 
rose  garden  or  to  glide  about  the  big  rooms  dressed  in 
proper  pretties " 

Pretending  horrified  disapproval  Densie  fled.  But 
when  she  was  picking  out  her  own  and  Sally's  clothes 
with  a  generous  hand  it  occurred  to  her  with  a  feeling  of 
defeat  and  disillusionment  that  men  were  all  alike,  after 
all  was  said  and  done !  Only  one  had  wooed  years  ago 
by  means  of  violets,  poems  and  shy  whispers,  and  an- 
other with  appointments  on  committees,  honor  banquets 
and  national  fame  simply  wrapped  up  and  parcel-posted 
her.  But  —  after  the  wooing  the  same  drastic  rule  for 
women  remained  in  both  their  blessed,  domineering  old 
hearts !  And  she  was  ashamed  to  say  she  forgot  modern 
doctrines  and  felt  delightfully  comforted  and  protected. 


295 


XXXI 

Relenting  enough  to  accept  the  trousseau  and  to  bring 
Rex  to  see  her  mother,  Sally  decided  on  an  early  mar- 
riage date.  As  they  would  go  to  New  York  for  their 
honeymoon  it  was  not  necessary  for  Harriet  to  come  on. 
Rex  told  Densie  with  a  too  suave  reverence  and  humble 
manner  that  he  wanted  to  take  Sally  to  the  Bermudas, 
but  the  war  made  it  unsafe  —  so  New  York  and  Wash- 
ington would  complete  their  modest  trip. 

With  the  magic  of  black  imps,  so  Densie  thought,  Rex 
remained  the  same  copper-faced,  mocking-eyed  person 
that  had  looked  down  scornfully  at  her  years  before. 
He  was  one  of  those  persons  who  are  born  middle  aged 
and  stay  so.  He  might  grow  more  withered  and  copper 
colored,  the  mocking  eyes  a  trifle  blurred  —  but  to  the 
end  he  would  be  the  blase  dandy,  the  man  of  the  world 
who  spoke  with  a  drawl  and  walked  with  an  air  and  suc- 
ceeded in  making  everyone  feel  that  everything  which 
was  useful  was  not  beautiful  and  anything  which  was 
not  beautiful  was  not  to  be  considered  the  second  time. 

After  a  discussion  as  to  the  detail  —  no  two  women 
with  the  prospect  of  a  wedding  can  possibly  refrain  from 
a  little  heated  argument  as  to  where  they  shall  stand 
and  white  or  black  fruit  cake  —  it  is  to  be  expected  of 
even  a  modern  police  woman  or  a  Hottentot  belle  —  the 
wedding  was  solemnized  in  Densie's  salon  with  only  the 
family  and  a  few  friends,  the  senator  among  them, 
present. 

296 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

It  was  not  a  solemn  wedding,  as  weddings  should  be, 
but  somewhat  sinister.  It  was  too  perfect  —  like  a 
stage  wedding,  with  everyone  wearing  a  professional 
smile  and  a  most  gorgeous  gown,  and  the  little  room 
overtrimmed  with  expensive  flowers.  Sally  in  her  ivory 
satin  with  a  rare  Honiton  lace  veil  and  orchids  in  her 
happy  trembling  hands  was  really  the  most  natural  thing 
connected  with  it. 

Even  the  minister  was  entirely  too  professional  as 
he  rushed  through  the  old  ring  service,  being  in  haste  to 
catch  a  New  York  train,  where  he  was  to  speak  for  some 
relief  committee.  The  words  sounded  disconnected  and 
rather  uninteresting  to  Densie.  Densie  in  apple-green 
velvet  and  silver  lace  looked  like  Sally's  sister. 
'  Younger  sister,  at  that,"  the  senator  declared  as  he 
deliberately  congratulated  Densie  before  he  did  Sally. 
John  in  his  new  suit,  which  Densie  had  sent  up  without 
asking  permission,  seemed  out  of  place,  a  cat  in  a  strange 
garret,  as  he  told  Densie  afterward. 

Kenneth  was  the  best  man,  silent  and  disapproving, 
but  handsomer  than  anyone  in  the  world,  his  mother 
thought  as  her  eyes  kept  straying  in  his  direction.  Out 
of  courtesy  to  Kenneth,  and  because  Sally  did  not  care 
who  was  asked  and  who  wasn't,  she  was  so  happy, 
Geraldine  Poole,  Kenneth's  object  of  adoration,  was 
maid  of  honor. 

Geraldine  was  a  tiny,  ineffectual  person  with  bright 
blue  eyes  set  too  closely  together  for  character  or  intelli- 
gence and  a  mass  of  fluffy  yellow  hair  combed  according 
to  the  latest  dictates.  She  wore  lemon-colored  satin 
with  rhinestone  trimming  and  ate  a  prodigious  amount  of 
salad  during  the  breakfast  —  that  was  all  Densie  seemed 
to  make  out  of  her,  she  confided  to  the  senator. 

"  Oh,  no,  there  is  a  great  deal  more,"  he  promptly 

297 


supplemented.  "  She  flirted  with  Rex  right  under 
Sally's  nose  and  called  your  husband  an  old  dear  and 
managed  to  get  away  with  the  largest  piece  of  cake  and 
to  be  the  center  of  attention.  She  is  quite  a  young  wo- 
man and  I  think  rather  mashed  on  your  son.  She  would 
like  to  be  known  as  Densie  Plummer's  daughter-in-law. 
Don't  worry,  the  young  dog  has  to  have  his  day.  He'll 
never  marry  her.  She's  the  sort  that  uses  tears  as 
weapons,  and  he'll  balk  at  that." 

So  Densie  had  tried  to  make  her  welcome  and  forget 
about  her.  Rex  was  the  person  who  radiated  the  sinister 
atmosphere;  he  spoke  his  responses  in  quick,  sharp 
fashion,  as  if  eager  to  have  done  with  it  all,  and  he  ac- 
cepted the  good  wishes  with  a  bored,  patronizing  air, 
calling  Sally  "  Mrs.  Humberstone  "  even  to  her  own 
mother. 

The  wedding  breakfast  was  also  the  sort  belonging  on 
the  stage  of  a  society  drama.  After  they  left  in  Rex's 
car  Densie  philosophically  went  to  work  on  a  Red  Cross 
report,  the  waiters  being  the  ones  to  whom  fell  the  task 
of  cleaning  away  the  debris  and  talking  it  over.  John 
returned  to  his  linen  apron  for  the  afternoon,  Kenneth 
and  Geraldine  were  left  to  bill  and  coo  among  the 
trampled  flowers,  and  the  senator  sentimentally  to  fore- 
cast his  own  and  Densie's  future. 

Thinking  it  over  afterward  Densie  recalled  one  inci- 
dent that  had  been  natural.  That  was  the  senator's 
and  John  Plummer's  greeting  and  treatment  of  each 
other.  It  was  as  if  two  rivals  had  been  forced  to  leave 
their  weapons  outside  the  castle  and  sit  in  helpless  agony 
during  some  long-drawn-out"  ceremonial.  The  only 
words  they  had  exchanged,  accompanying  a  curt  nod, 
were,  "  A  fine  day!  " 

Harriet  wrote  that  Sally  was  evidently  a  happy  woman 

298 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  she  did  not  feel  at  ease  with  Mr.  Humberstone,  but 
perhaps  he  might  come  to  know  her  better.  She  had 
dined  with  them  twice  and  gone  to  the  theater  once  and 
then  she  left  Sally  to  her  husband's  friends,  of  which 
there  seemed  a  great  many.  She  felt  he  had  the  first 
claim  now. 

Sally  was  rather  older  looking  than  she  ought  to  be, 
but  it  was  probably  for  the  best,  considering  Mr.  Hum- 
berstone's  age,  and  she,  Harriet,  had  given  them  a  ham- 
mered silver  tea  service.  The  rest  of  her  letter  was 
devoted  to  the  prospect  of  her  mother's  visit  to  New 
York  during  the  conference  of  federated  charities,  in 
which  both  Harriet  and  Densie,  from  different  angles, 
were  to  take  important  parts. 

Preparing  for  her  New  York  triumphal  march,  as  the 
senator  teased,  Densie  found  her  days  filled  with  obli- 
gations and  engagements;  and  when  a  few  weeks  later 
Sally  and  Rex  returned  and  took  an  apartment  at  an 
equally  fashionable  hotel  as  Densie's,  but  some  ways 
distant,  Densie  said  to  the  senator  that  she  must  be 
getting  old;  time  no  longer  flew  —  it  fairly  cheated  her! 

Sally  came  alone  to  see  her  mother.  Rex  was  very 
busy,  she  explained  rather  wistfully,  and  would  be  over 
Sunday.  "  Father  will  be  home  then,"  she  added,  "  and 
you  may  have  a  few  moments  for  us." 

"  I  shall  be  in  New  York,"  Densie  said  impersonally. 
"  The  convention  opens  Monday.  Come  here,  Sally 
dear,  give  me  a  kiss  and  tell  me  how  happy  you  are." 

The  old  warm  current  would  assert  itself  at  times. 

Slowly  Sally  obeyed.  "  Are  you  glad  I'm  married, 
mummy?  " 

"  Of  course,  we  must  all  be  glad.  It  is  quite  your 
affair.  Ken  is  the  only  one  who  has  had  a  distinctly 
bad  effect  from  it.  He  has  been  making  himself  a  slave 

299 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

to  Geraldine.  I  cannot  abide  the  girl,  as  shallow  as  a 
brook,  a  pretty,  ruffly  thing  who  pretends  to  adore  him. 
The  marriage  completely  upset  any  sane  ideas  Ken 
had  —  you  know  —  orange  blossoms,  harp  playing  be- 
hind potted  plants,  endless  wedding  cake  and  kisses  con- 
sidered good  form."  Densie  laughed. 

Sally  did  not  laugh.  She  sat  down  at  the  window 
seat  and  pretended  to  study  the  landscape.  She  wore 
one  of  her  trousseau  gowns  —  black  velvet  with  white 
satin  applique  and  a  great  drooping  hat.  Round  her 
shoulders  was  a  shining  seal  scarf  which  Rex  had  bought 
her  in  New  York,  and  she  had  a  new  platinum  wrist 
watch  sparkling  with  diamonds.  The  drooping  hat 
kindly  hid  the  expression  of  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  these  weddings !  "  she  murmured  wearily.  "  I 
hope  Ken  is  sensible  and  goes  to  West  Point  and  then 
loves  someone  and  marries  her  right  away." 

"  He  will."  Densie  purposely  did  not  notice  Sally's 
weary  manner.  "  Geraldine  will  never  wait  four  years 
for  anyone  —  four  months  is  her  limit." 

"  Some  women  wait,"  began  Sally.  Then  she  gave 
a  little  laugh  and  changed  the  subject.  "  Who  are  the 
Pooles?" 

"I  don't  know.  Nothing  very  much;  they  have  a 
flat  somewhere.  I  never  called.  Her  mother  plays 
bridge  and  her  father  sings  tenor."  She  shrugged  her 
shoulders. 

"  Poor  Ken  is  on  the  rocks  if  he  doesn't  watch  sharp. 
I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  keep  you  from  work.  You're 
a  mountain  of  energy,  mummy;  how  do  you  do  it? 
Remember  hundreds  of  names  and  thousands  of  faces 
and  always  be  well  dressed  and  gracious  at  all  those 
awful  Prison-Gate  Mission  teas  and  things  —  I  should 
think  you'd  go  mad.  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  dress 

300 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

myself  and  order  my  meals  and  Rex  wanted  me  to  bring 
a  maid  back  from  New  York  to  do  even  that.  Yet  I 
am  perpetually  tired  —  if  I  have  to  write  a  note  I  have 
a  headache,  and  if  anyone  calls  on  me  I  want  to  cry,  cry, 
cry  as  soon  as  they  are  gone !  " 

Densie  looked  at  her  shrewdly.  "  My  aunt  showed 
me  how  to  work,"  she  said;  "  that  is  the  difference." 

"  You  tried  to  show  me,"  Sally  corrected  honestly. 

Densie  invited  her  to  some  meetings  for  the  next  day, 
which  she  refused  listlessly.  She  started  asking  about 
her  father,  but  they  became  engrossed  as  to  the  style  of 
fur  boas  to  be  worn  next  winter  so  he  was  forgotten  ex- 
cept for  Sally's  leaving  him  a  little  gift. 

"  Tell  me  about  Harriet,"  Densie  had  asked. 

"  Same  old  Harriet  —  thinner,  paler,  blacker  eyes, 
keener  mind  and  colder  heart  —  more  devoted  to  that 
idiot  Leila,  who  is  deceitful,  I'm  sure  —  and  more  care- 
less of  everyone  else.  She  bored  Rex,  so  we  saw  little 
of  her." 

"  And   Rex?"     Densie's  voice  was  very  earnest. 

Sally's  face  went  white.  "  He  is  well,"  was  all  she 
answered,  "  and  very  good  to  me." 

But  after  she  had  left,  fairly  dragging  her  tired,  beau- 
tiful self  down  the  stairs  and  into  her  cab,  Densie  sat, 
forgetful  of  duties  and  honors  and  engagements.  She 
was  wondering  —  no  bride  has  that  dead  look  in  her 
eyes  without  some  cause.  John  had  somewhat  the  same 
look.  Could  Densie  explain  the  cause? 


301 


XXXII 

The  war  definitely  crowded  all  of  Densie's  other  ac- 
tivities aside.  She  was  officially  given  the  responsibility 
to  organize  societies  and  handle  funds,  and  when  she 
left  for  the  New  York  convention  she  took  with  her  a 
secretary  and  traveled  in  a  drawing-room,  that  she  might 
dictate  letters  on  the  journey.  Once,  during  a  lull,  she 
recalled  that  other  trip  to  New  York,  when  she  had 
timidly  obeyed  her  husband's  dictates  and  become  dis- 
illusioned as  to  Harriet's  education,  besides  being 
snubbed  conscientiously  by  the  entire  convention. 

This  time  she  had  said  good-by  to  John  in  her  matter- 
of-fact  way,  not  noticing  whether  or  not  he  responded. 
The  senator  was  to  be  in  New  York  also;  he  had  made 
Densie  promise  she  would  step  down  from  her  pedestal 
and  play  with  him  some  of  the  time.  Harriet  also  ex- 
pected to  be  with  her  mother;  altogether  Densie's  days 
would  be  crowded  to  overflowing,  and  she  decided  she 
would  not  wire  Kenneth  to  join  her  as  she  had  halfway 
promised.  Some  other  time  she  would  give  up  a  week 
and  take  Kenneth  to  New  York,  at  which  time  she  would 
not  speak  before  a  single  club  or  meet  anyone  who  would 
ask  her  to  sign  a  petition  or  use  her  influence  with  such 
and  such  a  personage. 

One  other  time  during  the  journey  she  recalled  her 
family.  A  bride  had  entered  the  car  at  some  small 
station,  rice  and  roses  dripping  from  her  in  profusion  and 
a  nice-faced  young  husband  solicitously  trying  to  carry  all 
the  bags  and  the  bride  as  well.  Something  about  the 

302 


A  WOiMAN'S  WOMAN 

bridegroom  reminded  her  of  Dean  Laddbarry.  Woman 
fashion  she  could  not  resist  taking  a  look  at  the  bride, 
a  pretty  country  girl,  ill  at  ease  in  her  new  gown, 
but  as  Densie  passed  down  the  aisle  she  smiled  at  her, 
a  clear  lovely  smile  of  pure  happiness.  Densie  felt  a 
pang  of  mother  envy  that  this  girl's  eyes  were  such  joy- 
ous things  to  look  upon  while  Sally's  had  been  tired  and 
haggard  and  her  smile  nothing  but  a  clumsy  mask  for 
overwrought  nerves  and  bewildered  heart. 

Densie  would  have  been  surprised  had  she  known  what 
was  happening  at  Sally's  apartment  at  this  identical  mo- 
ment. Dressed  for  a  country-club  tea,  at  which  Rex 
had  ordered  her  to  appear,  Sally  had  been  putting  on 
her  gloves  when  a  bell  boy  brought  up  a  card.  For 
a  moment  she  read  it  without  allowing  herself  to  believe 
the  name  she  saw  engraved:  Dean  Laddbarry. 

She  read  it  again,  wondering  if  the  boy  saw  how  she 
trembled;  then  she  said  she  would  see  him.  Dropping 
her  gloves  on  the  table  she  stood  with  her  hands  out- 
stretched waiting  for  the  door  to  open. 

A  tall  lantern-jawed  man  came  into  the  fussy  little 
room  and  seemed  to  overcrowd  it  just  by  his  presence. 
If  Sally  Plummer  had  changed,  so  had  Dean  Laddbarry. 
The  boy  was  gone;  he  was  a  strong,  sober  man,  the  hon- 
est eyes  were  keen  and  piercing,  and  his  body  had  de- 
veloped from  muscular  work  until  he  seemed  a  stranger 
giant  rather  than  the  former  slender  Dean.  He  wore 
the  unconventional  dress  of  a  man  who  is  making  good 
and  has  no  time  to  bother  with  flubdubs.  His  boots 
were  not  highly  polished  and  the  suit  was  of  gray  and 
speckled  red,  undeniably  store  bought,  while  his  tie 
was  a  bit  rumpled  and  its  style  and  color  nondescript. 

He  looked  at  Sally  without  speaking.  As  Sally  was 
thinking  of  the  change  she  <nw  in  her  old  boy  friend  so 

303 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Dean  was  thinking  that  he  had  left  Sally  Plummer  a 
beautiful  frivolous  girl  and  he  found  her  a  tired  yet 
beautiful  woman.  Her  gown  of  pink  satin  with  bands 
of  black  fox  and  the  French  hat  of  jet  emphasized  the 
impression.  It  seemed  as  if  she  were  "  too  tired  way 
inside  "  to  bother  wearing  such  gowns  and  hats  and  do- 
ing them  justice,  as  if  she  would  rather  be  in  some  simple 
white  thing,  free  to  wander  off  to  a  garden  nook  and 
sit  watching  growing,  quiet  things,  and  rest.  He  noted 
the  rings,  the  bracelet  watch,  the  collar  of  pearls,  the 
corsage  of  orchids. 

Then  he  said  slowly:  "Well,  Sally,  has  it  made  you 
happy?  " 

She  did  not  answer.  It  seemed  as  if  she  were  momen- 
tarily hypnotized  and  could  not  stop  staring  at  this 
rugged  out-of-door  man  who  had  looked  deep  into  her 
heart  and  read  its  secret. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down?  "  she  asked  presently. 

He  straddled  a  frivolous  gold  chair,  leaning  his  arm 
across  the  back  of  it  and  watching  her  carefully.  "  I 
came  East  on  business;  I'm  only  here  two  days.  I  went 
to  your  father's  store."  He  paused  to  think  of  the  great 
change  he  had  found  in  The  Golden  Rule  Tea  Store  with 
the  beaproned  clerk.  "  He  said  you  were  married  to 
Rex.  I  would  not  have  hunted  you  up  only  your  mother 
was  out  of  town  and  Ken  not  to  be  found.  I  couldn't 
go  away  without  seeing  some  of  you,  so  here  I  am;  and 
how  are  my  chances  for  a  real  welcome?" 

"  I  see,"  Sally  answered  dully.  "  You  look  well  — 
and  happy,"  she  added-timidly. 

Dean's  eyes  kept  staring  at  her  without  mercy. 
"What  a  ghastly  change!  "  he  murmured. 

"  Stop !  "  She  tilted  her  head  in  characteristic  de- 
fiance. '  What  right  have  you  to  come  and  tell  me 

304 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

any  such  thing?     If  —  my  —  my  husband "     She 

tried  to  say  the  words  with  joyous  assurance  of  her  hus- 
band, but  it  was  a  miserable  failure.     Her  head  drooped. 

"  I  have  the  right  of  someone  who  has  loved  you  a 
good  many  years;  and  that's  a  right  no  one  can  take 
away  from  me.  How  you  have  changed;  you  seem  to 
me  just  to  be  making  yourself  keep  up  the  game.  It 
isn't  the  real  you,  Sally.  Pal,  don't  you  remember  how 
you  used  to  tell  me  everything  good  or  bad  —  can't  you 
tell  me  again?  Can't  you  trust  me?  Tell  me  what  is 
bothering.  I'll  be  three  thousand  miles  away  from  you 
within  a  few  days  —  I'll  never  come  back,  it  is  likely. 
Sometimes  it's  a  relief  to  talk;  want  to?  " 

Her  lips  quivered.  "  Don't  make  me  hate  myself  any 
more,"  she  begged.  "  There  is  nothing  to  tell  —  noth- 
ing that  is  anyone's  concern  but  mine.  Please  let  us  talk 
about  the  West  and  your  work,  anything  but  my  own 
wretched  self.  Oh,  I  cannot  bear  it!  "  She  struck  the 
palms  of  her  hands  together  sharply. 

"Have  you  told  your  mother?"  he  insisted. 

Sally  smiled.  "  You  have  not  seen  mummy,  so 
you  can't  understand.  Only  standing  committees  tell 
mummy  things;  or  the  senator,  or  the  President,  or  —  I 
can't  make  you  realize  how  changed  it  all  is.  Mummy 
lives  for  herself,  Dean,  not  for  her  family.  She  isn't 
a  woman's  woman  any  more." 

"So  I  surmised.     And  the  home?" 

"  We  have  no  home.  We  lived  at  the  hotel  until  I 
married  and  came  here.  Rex  hates  a  home.  I  would 
not  know  how  to  manage  one  if  I  had  it.  A  home  is 
quite  impossible  for  any  of  us."  And  she  laughed  so 
shrilly  that  Dean's  nerves  began  to  assert  themselves. 

"  What  made  him  finally  marry  you?  "  he  asked  bru- 
tally. 

305 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Sally  started  to  her  feet.  "  I  will  not  listen  to  you  — 
an  intruding  stranger !  " 

Dean  rose  and  grasped  her  hands  in  his  strong  kindly 
ones.  "  I  always  loved  you,  Sally  Plummer,  and  I  al- 
ways will.  I'd  fight  your  husband  for  you  now  if  he 
would  fight  —  but  he's  a  coward.  I've  had  to  stand 
by  and  see  you  pass  me  up  and  let  yourself  be  a  slave  to 
that  cad.  I  had  to  go  away  with  no  promise  of  you, 
no  incentive  to  make  me  make  good  —  and  yet  I  made 
good  anyway,  because  I  stole  you  in  my  thoughts  and 
had  you  for  my  incentive.  Yes,  I  did  —  just  that.  I 
couldn't  have  stood  it  if  I  hadn't  let  myself  pretend  that 
you  cared,  that  some  day  I  could  come  back  and  listen 
to  you  say  '  Yes.'  It  wasn't  such  a  bad  thing  to  do,  was 
it,  Sally  darling?  Look  at  me  —  not  away  from  me. 
There,  don't  cry.  Sally,  it  could  be  worse.  If  you  had 
forgotten  how  to  cry  —  that  would  be  a  degree  more 
hopeless.  Let  me  hold  your  hands  another  minute  while 
I  finish.  Shall  we  sit  here  together?  " 

Like  a  child  she  let  him  lead  her  to  a  little  tete-a-tete, 
her  hands  clinging  to  his. 

"  I  wanted  to  come  back,  Sally,  and  see  if  you  would 
still  say  '  No.'  I  hadn't  heard  of  the  marriage,  for  I'm 
rather  out  of  the  way  of  civilization  and  your  mother 
doesn't  write  me  any  more.  I  came  here  hoping  dreams 
might  come  true.  I  found  out  the  worst  before  I'd  been 
in  town  an  hour.  I  who  really  know  you  both,  ask  you 
to  tell  me  why  you  married  him  —  you  wretched,  lovely 
woman." 

The  grip  on  her  hands  tightened. 

"  If  I  could  tell  anyone,  Dean,  it  would  be  you,"  she 
answered.  "  I  married  him  because  all  my  starved 
woman's  heart  wanted  the  revenge,  the  satisfaction  of 
marrying  him  after  the  wasted  years  —  and  I  loved  him. 

306 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Not  as  I  once  loved  him,  but  with  the  same  infatuated 
blindness  by  which  he  won  me.  I  was  happy  to  marry 
him.  But  I  thought  of  you,  Dean,  many  times.  Odd, 
wasn't  it?  And  so  —  and  now  —  oh,  I  cannot  go  on !  " 
Such  a  look  of  terror  came  into  her  face  that  Dean 
dropped  her  hands  as  he  bent  closer  to  peer  into  her 
eyes. 

'  Tell    me,    Sally.     I'll    do    anything    you    say.     I'll 
forget  the  word  discretion;  or  remember  it  —  just  as  you 
like.     Tell  me  —  shall  I  carry  you  off  like  a  bandit  - 
will  you  come  —  tell  me?     I'll  fight  him  like  a  man  - 
I'll "      He  had  forgotten  himself,  for  he  was  hold- 
ing her  in  his  strong  tender  arms. 

She  let  her  cheek  rest  on  his  shoulder  while  she  sobbed, 
"  Dean  —  oh,  mummy !  "  —  in  some  unexplained 
anguish  of  the  soul.  u  Let  me  alone;  it  is  too  late  —  too 
late;  but  I  did  not  know.  I  did  not  dream." 

Then  she  broke  away  from  him  and  walked  to  the 
window,  trying  to  compose  herself.  Dean  stood  back, 
abashed,  remembering  that  after  all  Sally  was  another 
man's  wife.  After  years  of  loyal  and  unreturned  love, 
tempered  only  by  his  stolen  dreams,  the  truth  had  crashed 
in  relentlessly  and  for  all  time.  Whatever  the  secret  it 
was  Sally's  —  Sally  Humberstone's,  to  be  exact. 

"  I'm  sorry  I've  stirred  all  this  up,"  he  said  gently. 
"  I  didn't  mean  to  when  I  came  in.  Only  I've  loved  you 
so  hard,  Sally,  I  always  hoped  you'd  care  some  day." 

"  I  know."  Sally  was  her  old  tired  but  poised  self. 
"  I  understand."  She  turned  and  faced  him.  "  But  we 
must  not  forget  that  it  is  too  late."  A  tender  expression 
crossed  her  face.  "  Have  you  never  met  anyone  you 
could  love  ?  " 

"  No  one,  Sally  —  for  you  see  I  loved  you  in  dreams." 
He  picked  up  his  hat  and  fumbled  with  it  boyishly. 

307 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  You'd  make  some  woman  so  happy,"  she  added  wist- 
fully. "  You  must  try  to  love  someone  and  forget  me. 
I've  been  my  own  worst  enemy,  Dean,  as  well  as  disap- 
pointing you." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  will  always  be  Sally.  But  that's  neither 
here  nor  there."  He  straightened  up  with  an  effort. 
"  I'm  sorry  to  have  made  a  scene.  Remember  me  to 
Ken,  won't  you?  Your  father  is  changed  —  he's  an  old 
man,  and  yet  he  really  isn't  old,  is  he?  Tell  your  mother 
I  still  remember  her  cake  and  pie." 

Sally  shook  her  head.  "  If  you  do,  mummy  doesn't. 
We're  all  changed  now,  Dean.  Only  you  seem  to  be 
the  same.  Now  tell  me  about  your  work." 

Dean  outlined  his  enterprises.  There  was  such  a 
vigor,  such  a  clean-cut  honest  way  about  him  and  about 
his  plans  that  Sally  listened  with  eager  admiration. 
Finally  he  glanced  at  the  ornate  room  with  its  smart 
furnishings  and  artificial  setting,  a  painted  parrot  on  a 
white-and-red  stand  being  the  only  attempt  at  a  com- 
panion. 

"  So  this  is  Sally  Plummer's  home,"  he  said  soberly. 
"  Oh,  I  can't  remember  you  here  —  but  as  you  were  back 
at  the  Little  House  where  we  had  such  good  times. 
Good-by,  dear.  Promise  that  if  you  ever  want  or  need 
me  you  will  send."  He  laid  an  address  on  the  table. 

"  Good-by,  Dean.  Good  luck  —  and  may  love  come  to 
you,"  she  answered  unsteadily,  holding  out  her  hand. 

He  took  it  with  a  disinterested  gesture,  and  then  with- 
out warning  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her  fiercely,  whis- 
pering, "  I'm  not  stealing  this  —  it  is  my  right  to  kiss  you 
once.  I've  kissed  you  so  many  times  in  dreams.  Tell 
him  if  you  wish.  I'd  like  the  whole  world  to  know." 

Before  she  could  answer  he  had  left  the  room  and 

308 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Sally  was  alone  —  the  painted  parrot  looking  over  with 
a  mocking  jeer.  She  took  off  her  hat  and  went  into  her 
bedroom.  It  was  impossible  to  go  to  the  club  tea,  even 
though  it  would  anger  Rex.  There  are  limits  to  en- 
durance. She  picked  up  Dean's  card  and  address  and 
put  them  carefully  away.  Then  she  tried  to  read  some 
frivolous  story,  tossing  it  aside  in  despair.  She  went  to 
her  desk  to  answer  notes,  but  she  misspelled  words  and 
blotted  the  paper.  She  began  walking  up  and  down 
the  room,  the  parrot  jeering  at  her  every  time  she  made 
a  turn. 

Finally  Rex  came  in.  His  copper-colored  face  was  a 
trifle  flushed  and  his  eyes  had  a  look  of  keen  displeasure. 

"  I  waited  an  hour  for  you,"  he  began  without  any 
other  greeting.  "  Eunice  Hunt  took  your  place  at  the 
tea  table.  Why  didn't  you  have  the  grace  to  let  people 
know  if  you  were  not  going  to  honor  them  with  your 
presence?  " 

"  I  meant  to  come,"  she  said  dully.  "  I  am  dressed 
for  the  thing,  as  you  can  see.  I  had  a  headache.  I  did 
not  think  it  necessary  to  telephone." 

"  I  explained  to  you  why  it  was  necessary."  He  hissed 
the  words  a  trifle;  Sally  had  learned  this  was  a  forerunner 
of  rage.  He  threw  down  his  coat  and  hat  and  came 
toward  her,  pointing  his  finger  at  her  with  meaning. 
"  See  here,  young  woman,  the  next  time  I  arrange  to  meet 
you  any  place  and  you  don't  want  to  come  because  you're 
in  one  of  your  moods  or  sulks  —  you  come  or  you  let  me 
know !  I'm  not  to  be  made  a  fool  of  —  not  at  this  stage 
of  the  game." 

"Are  we  always  to  go  on  like  this?"  asked  Sally 
wearily.  "  You  are  no  more  like  the  man  I  first  loved 
than  I  am  like  the  child  I  once  was.  I'm  tired  of  it;  it  is 

309 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

like  painted  films,  flat,  monotonous.  I  almost  get  to  hate 
myself,"  she  was  about  to  finish  the  sentence,  but  she 
controlled  herself. 

"  It  makes  no  difference  what  you  think  —  just  now," 
he  reminded  in  a  peculiarly  soft  voice.  "  There  is  every 
reason  in  the  world  to  make  us  work  together."  He 
hissed  the  words  more  loudly.  "  See  here!  " 

He  drew  something  from  his  pocket  and  made  her 
read  it. 

She  gave  a  cry  of  protest.  "  Stop  it  —  stop  it  —  be- 
fore it  is  too  late!  No,  I'll  have  none  of  it " 

His  thin  cruel  hand  took  her  wrist,  the  nails  deliber- 
ately cutting  into  her  flesh. 

"  If  you  turn  on  me,"  he  said  with  deliberation,  the 
whites  of  his  eyes  emphasizing  their  maliciousness,  "  I 
will  kill  you."  Then  he  dropped  her  wrist  and  gave  a 
little  laugh  as  he  pushed  her  away.  "  Come,  let  us  be 
normal,  my  dear,"  he  finished  sardonically.  "  I'm  sure 
you'd  rather  have  a  box  coat  of  sables  than  a  bullet  — 
eh?" 

Sally  fled  from  the  room,  locking  her  bedroom  door 
and  refusing  to  answer.  All  through  the  night  she 
sobbed  in  helpless  surrender  —  and  thought  of  Dean 
Laddbarry's  kiss! 


310 


XXXIII 

Densie's  New  York  trip  was  a  distinct  success.  She 
rode  in  a  motor  with  prominent  statesmen  in  the  patriotic 
parade  and  was  given  every  possible  attention,  her  pic- 
ture was  printed  in  all  the  papers  with  complimentary 
headings. 

Harriet  marveled  at  her  mother's  success,  at  her  way 
of  dressing,  the  girlish  fashion  in  which  she  received  her 
attentions  and  compliments.  Densie  found  a  greater 
change  in  her  daughter  than  she  had  fancied  could  occur. 
She  had  rather  settled  in  her  own  mind  that  Harriet  was 
always  to  stay  dark  haired  and  pale,  clever  and  satisfied 
with  impersonal  views  of  life  and  impersonal  work. 

But  she  noted  a  strange  restlessness  beneath  the  ve- 
neer of  content,  a  nervous  irritability  when  work  pressed 
too  hard.  When  she  ventured  to  ask  the  reason  for 
this  Harriet  answered  almost  rudely  that  it  was 
nothing,  and  never  to  bother  her  with  such  ques- 
tions again.  But  after  four  very  b  isy  days  —  with  the 
senator  coaxing  her  to  play  and  herself  trying  to  attend 
to  her  duties  and  not  succumb  to  temptation  —  Densie 
understood  the  reason  for  Harriet's  new  manner. 

She  was  to  take  dinner  with  the  girls,  as  she  called 
Leila  and  Harriet,  and  then  go  on  to  her  evening  affairs. 
It  was  to  be  the  one  informal  dinner  she  had  found  time 
to  have  —  even  the  senator  was  banished  to  drives  and 
brief  cups  of  afternoon  tea. 

Coming  up  the  apartment-house  stairs  Densie  began 
to  reorder  her  mind.  She  found  it  necessary  to  have 
several  mental  compartments  into  which  certain  sets  of 

3" 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

persons  and  circumstances  were  placed  and  definitely 
made  to  remain.  It  was  the  only  way  in  which  she 
could  successfully  carry  on  her  various  lines  of  work  — 
and  her  family.  The  family  mental  compartment  cor- 
responded to  that  one  corner  of  the  old-style  attic  that 
was  house-cleaned  once  a  year  and  called  "  where  all  the 
things  we  don't  use  are  kept." 

So  Densie  began  to  think  of  Harriet's  nervous  man- 
ner, the  almost  bitter  way  in  which  she  spoke  of  even 
trivial  affairs.  She  rang  several  times  before  Harriet 
in  an  unheard-of  frousled  state  answered,  her  face  so 
white  that  Densie  wondered  if  Harriet  might  not  have 
weathered  through  some  hard  illness  without  writing 
home. 

"  My  child  " —  she  put  her  hand  on  her  shoulder  — 
"  what  in  the  world  is  wrong  with  you  ?  I  shan't  stay 
for  dinner  —  you  must  go  to  bed." 

Harriet  jerked  away.  Now  it  would  be  hard  for  a 
manikin  to  come  to  life  suddenly  and  show  emotion  nat- 
urally, as  flesh-and-blood  persons  have  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  do.  The  manikin  would  have  to  strut  about, 
bend  awkwardly,  speak  absurdly  and  have  peculiar  ex- 
pressions. So  it  was  with  Harriet.  From  the  long 
period  of  repression  and  impersonal  living  it  was  not 
possible  for  her  to  express  any  real  sorrow  in  natural 
fashion. 

"  Come  in,  please,"  she  said  sharply;  "  I've  something 
to  say." 

Wondering,  Densie  followed  her  down  the  hall  and 
into  the  living  room.x  "  What  in  the  world  is  it,  Har- 
riet? I  don't  like  the  way  you  look  and  act." 

Harriet  gave  a  shrill  laugh.  "  Don't  you?  Neither 
do  I."  Her  thin  pale  fingers  began  smoothing  her  hair. 
11  I'm  sorry  not  to  be  dressed  —  rather  upset."  She 

312 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

spoke  the  words  begrudgingly,  as  if  she  hated  herself 
for  showing  how  she  felt  and  hated  her  mother  for  being 
present  to  see  it.  "  Leila  married  —  she  eloped  with 
some  silly  idiot  of  a  student  —  ten  years  younger  than 
herself  —  never  liked  him  —  told  her  so  —  tried  to 
break  it  up  —  she  lied  to  me  —  said  she  never  would 
marry."  Her  fingers  kept  twisting  and  untwisting  a 
loose  strand  of  hair.  "  Said  she  was  wedded  to  work  — 
never  hinted  of  what  she  was  going  to  do  —  worried  me 
a  long  time  —  ran  off  like  a  servant  girl  —  noon  to-day. 
Oh!" 

She  gave  a  strangled  cry  of  grief  and  left  the  room. 

Densie  followed.  '  There  is  nothing  to  go  to  pieces 
about,"  she  said  sensibly.  "  If  Leila  wished  to  marry 
someone  it  is  her  affair.  There  are  plenty  of  other  girls 
to  room  with  or  keep  house  —  I'd  be  glad  for  her  if  she 
was  glad." 

Harriet  turned  to  glare  at  her  mother.  "  Knew  you'd 
not  understand,"  she  said  sharply.  "  Wouldn't  you  feel 
the  least  bit  knocked  —  if  she  had  been  your  chum  all 

along?     She "     Then  she   stopped  and  refrained 

from  the  rest  of  the  truth,  being  too  much  of  a  thorough- 
bred. For  Leila  had  steadily  and  deliberately  borrowed 
Harriet's  money  with  no  intention  of  repaying,  and  she 
had  eloped  not  only  with  a  boy  student  but  with  the 
greater  share  of  Harriet's  earnings. 

"  Now,  Harriet,  please  wash  your  face  and  comb  your 
hair  and  get  some  tea."  Densie  was  annoyed  this  should 
have  happened  when  she  was  so  busy  and  needed  all 
her  strength.  "  I'm  sure  I  cannot  see  what  a  terrible 
tragedy  it  is.  You  have  lived  so  long  alone  that  you  are 
not  used  to  having  anyone  do  anything  except  just  as  you 
say " 

Harriet   interrupted   her   mother   with   an   ugly   little 

313 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

laugh,  merely  indicative  of  her  nerves,  but  to  Densie  it 
seemed  insolence. 

"  I  want  you  to  let  me  alone!  "  she  declared,  beside 
herself  with  anger  and  grief.  "  I'll  live  by  myself  and 
never  have  another  friend  —  don't  worry !  I'm  through 
trusting  people.  I'm  no  child  to  be  ordered  about  —  I'm 
tired." 

And  on  the  verge  of  hysterics  she  left  her  mother 
standing  in  the  bedroom  doorway  while  she  vanished  into 
her  little  dressing  room. 

"  You  need  a  vacation  and  new  clothes,"  Densie  in- 
sisted. "  When  America  enters  the  war,  Harriet,  you 
are  certain  to  go  to  France,  and  you  must  be  fit." 

Harriet  began  whistling  loudly,  her  manikin  fashion 
of  showing  emotion.  She  did  not  know  how  really  to 
cry. 

"  I  wish  you'd  stop  whistling  while  I  am  trying  to 
talk."  Densie's  temper  asserted  itself.  "  You  ought  to 
live  in  a  hotel  like  any  sensible  woman  —  and  for  good- 
ness sakes,  send  Leila  word  that  you  congratulate  her! 
How  very  silly  you  are  about  some  things !  " 

"  Only  kept  the  place  up  for  Leila  —  she  didn't  have 
money  enough  for  a  hotel."  Harriet  reappeared  in  the 
doorway.  "  I'll  never  keep  house  again  —  or  try  to  save 
a  cent  —  never !  Please  go,  mummy;  I  can't  talk  to  any- 
one who  doesn't  understand." 

Densie  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  at  her  dismisssal.  "  I'm 
sure  you  are  as  great  a  problem  as  your  sister  once  was. 
I've  only  Kenneth  to  rely  on."  And  turning,  she  deserted 
the  apartment  and  itsv  forlorn  mistress  with  alacrity. 

If  she  could  have  seen  Kenneth  at  that  moment  she 
might  not  have  felt  she  could  rely  on  him  to  the  extent 
she  had  permitted  herself  to  believe.  He  was  to  take 
dinner  with  the  Poole  family.  He  was  so  busy  turning 

3*4 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  pages  of  Geraldine's  asinine  father's  asinine  tenor 
solos,  pretending  to  be  in  ecstasy  at  the  reedy  voice  in- 
forming one  that  the  birds  would  come  north  again,  that 
Densie  would  scarcely  have  known  him  for  her  sensible 
son.  He  had  bought  Mrs.  Poole  and  Gerry  handsome 
corsages  and  was  going  to  take  them  all  to  the  theater 
the  following  night. 

Gerry  and  her  mother  evidently  satisfied  with  the  way 
things  were  turning  out  waited  impatiently  until  Pater 
Poole  delivered  himself  of  the  last  tip-top  note. 

Then  Mrs.  Poole  said  complacently,  "  Kenneth  dear, 
I'm  afraid  we  must  talk  very  plainly  to  you  about  our 
little  girl." 

At  which  Mr.  Poole  whirled  round  on  the  piano  stool 
and  pretended  to  be  startled,  while  Gerry,  a  swirl  of 
white  lace  and  ribbons,  blushed  and  said:  "  Oh,  mamma, 
don't  scold  Ken.  He  wanted  to  tell  you.  We  —  we're 
engaged!  "  And  then  she  ran  to  her  father  to  hide  her 
head  on  his  shoulder. 

Trembling  with  terror  lest  the  verdict  be  unfavorable, 
Kenneth  tried  to  say  all  in  a  moment,  that  he  had  brilliant 
prospects  and  he  certainly  loved  Gerry  as  no  one  had 
ever  loved  before  and  always  would  and  he  was  not  one- 
tenth  good  enough  for  her  and  he  hoped  they  would  not 
think  him  too  young  and  if  they  would  only  let  him  try 
to  prove  worthy  he  would  be  too  happy  for  words  —  or 
dinner! 

"  Our  little  girl  is  very  young  herself,"  began  Mrs. 
Poole  in  proper  fashion,  concealing  her  inward  delight; 
"  yet  she  seems  to  care  very  deeply  —  I  have  always 
dreaded  the  day  when  she  would  choose  a  stranger  before 
her  papa  and  mamma." 

Kenneth  gave  way  to  another  profusion  of  promises. 

"  I  shall  not  stop  true  love  —  no  matter  how  this  old 

315 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

heart  of  mine  bleeds,  Kenneth,"  Mrs.  Poole  asserted 
nobly.  "  Harold,  what  have  you  to  say?  " 

Mr.  Poole  turned  to  the  piano  after  disengaging  Ger- 
aldine  and  played  a  bar  of  How  Can  I  Leave  Thee  — 
Geraldine  looking  coyly  at  Kenneth  and  smiling  her 
encouragement.  Then  her  father  added  with  character- 
istic dramatic  pathos,  having  once  been  a  trouper,  "  I've 
nothing  against  you,  my  boy  —  only  that  you  have  taken 
our  prize.  Cherish  her  tenderly.  Ah,  me,  the  nest  is 
empty." 

Geraldine  sidled  across  the  room  to  put  her  hand  in 
Kenneth's  while  they  received  a  prolonged  and  admoni- 
tory blessing.  Later  in  the  evening  the  Pooles  left  the 
young  things  alone  while  they  departed  to  tell  their  best 
friends  that  Gerry  was  engaged  to  Kenneth  Plummer  and 
wasn't  she  lucky?  Everyone  knew  that  Mrs.  Densie 
Plummer  had  more  prestige  than  the  mayor's  wife ! 

In  unrestrained  rapture  Kenneth  signed  his  very  soul 
away  in  answer  to  Geraldine's  demands  that  she  never 
keep  house  but  live  like  his  mother,  have  lovely  clothes  to 
wear,  and  that  if  America  went  to  war  he  would  try  to 
get  something  to  do  in  the  censor's  office,  that  he  would 
always  love  her  and  tell  her  so  once  a  day,  and  he  would 
raise  a  mustache  and  begin  to  wear  cloth-top  shoes. 

Densie  left  New  York  a  few  days  later  than  she  had 
planned,  due  to  extra  work.  She  had  lost  time  trying  to 
deal  with  Harriet,  only  finding  herself  set  aside  as  com- 
pletely as  when  years  ago  she  had  tried  to  convince  Har- 
riet of  the  folly  of  leading  her  own  life. 

Harriet  refused  any  sympathy  and  was  irritated  by 
the  mere  mention  of  Leila's  name.  She  began  to  dis- 
mantle the  apartment  and  planned  to  move  to  a  good 
and  expensive  hotel.  It  did  not  matter,  Harriet  argued, 
whether  or  not  she  lived  up  to  her  income  or  a  tiny  ways 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

beyond  it  —  what  was  the  use  in  ever  saving?  She  also, 
to  Densie's  disappointment,  refused  to  have  the  senator 
help  her  to  a  better  position  —  that  was  Harriet's  form 
of  a  horsehair  shirt  —  and  she  told  her  mother  good-by 
in  very  formal  fashion,  talking  glibly  of  the  book  she  was 
to  write  on  The  History  of  Philanthropy. 

Densie  looked  forward  to  seeing  her  boy;  she  could 
make  herself  numb  regarding  Sally's  listless  self,  John's 
sullen  person  with  his  inevitable  query,  "  I  suppose  you've 
had  a  good  time  —  you  look  it."  But  her  boy  —  he 
could  never  fail  her. 

Even  the  senator  was  jealous  of  Kenneth  he  had  de- 
clared. "  Wait  until  some  girl  makes  Kenneth  part  his 
hair  in  the  middle  and  dress  like  an  actor,"  he  had 
warned;  "  then  you'll  be  glad  enough  to  have  me  about." 

Blushing,  Densie  had  denied  the  prophecy,  but  the 
senator  had  persisted. 

"  I  can  tell  by  your  eyes  when  that  has  happened,"  he 
said;  "  and  then  I  shall  make  the  most  important  speech 
of  my  whole  life." 

In  her  heart  Densie  knew  she  would  be  glad  to  listen. 
She  wondered,  just  at  the  time  the  senator  was  telling 
her  this,  and  much  against  her  inclination  to  wonder,  as 
to  what  John  had  been  doing  during  her  absence.  Her 
mental  compartments  did  not  always  work  according  to 
her  desire! 


317 


XXXIV 

Kenneth  met  his  mother  at  the  train ;  he  could  scarcely 
wait  until  the  greetings  were  over  and  they  were  in  a 
whirling  taxi  to  confide:  "Mummy,  Gerry  Poole  has 
promised  to  marry  me  and  I'm  the  happiest  chap  alive !  " 

Densie  looked  at  him  in  humorous  dismay.  The  news 
did  not  impress  her  as  serious. 

u  My  dear  boy,  when  your  mother  was  gone  did  you 
have  to  get  into  mischief?  You  babes  in  the  woods." 
She  put  her  hand  on  his  affectionately. 

"  I've  spoken  to  her  father  and  mother,"  Kenneth  in- 
sisted, "  and  they  are  willing  to  give  Gerry  to  me.  It 
rather  knocks  the  West  Point  plan,  because  four-year  en- 
gagements are  not  the  thing.  I  knew  you'd  understand. 
Gerry  wants  to  be  married  soon.  You  tell  the  senator. 
I'm'  going  into  business  as  soon  as  I  find  an  opening." 
He  did  not  add  the  rest  of  the  truth  —  that  Geraldine 
dreaded  America's  advent  into  the  war  and  Kenneth's 
possible  enlistment. 

Densie  frowned.  "  I  don't  want  to  be  the  proverbial 
ogre  in  fairy  tales,  but  I  cannot  approve  this.  All  very 
well  for  you  to  be  engaged  —  but  I  want  my  boy  to  go 
to  West  Point  as  we  planned.  It  is  a  greater  opportun- 
ity than  to  marry  Geraldine  Poole,"  she  said  rather  has- 
tily. 

At  this  Kenneth  took  exception.  "  I'm  afraid  you 
think  of  love  last,  mummy.  You  forget  I  love  Gerald- 
ine and  she  loves  me.  We  are  not  going  to  let  any  stupid 
career  break  through  to  spoil  happiness.  I  can  be  just 
as  much  use  in  the  world  in  business  as  in  the  Army." 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"But  when  we  enter  this  war?"  Densie  suggested 
gravely. 

'  Then  I'll  talk  to  Gerry  and  make  her  see  that  I  must 
go.     Of   course,    I'd   go !  "    he    added    almost   angrily. 
'  You   didn't   think   I'd   try  to   hide   behind   your   and 
Gerry's  skirts,  did  you?" 

"  No,  Kenneth."  She  patted  his  hand  gently.  "  I 
know  you  would  never  shrink  from  duty.  Only  it  hurts 
to  see  the  West  Point  commission  so  lightly  given  up. 
Think  well  before  you  do  so.  Such  chances  come  but 
seldom." 

"Does  a  great  love  come  but  once?"  He  was  so 
serious  and  so  boyish  with  the  threadbare  little  mustache 
and  pink-and-white  complexion  that  Densie  longed  to 
draw  him  over  to  her  and  kiss  him  regardless  of  his 
twenty-one  years  and  the  newly  found  love  of  a  lifetime  I 

"  Darling,  you  are  so  young,"  she  murmured  evasively. 
"  I  cannot  take  it  quite  seriously.  Do  look  about  a  bit  — 
both  you  and  Gerry." 

"  Well,  were  you  any  older  ?  "  he  retorted. 

Then  he  paused  for  they  had  just  passed  the  Golden 
Rule  store  and  the  driver  had  not  been  given  notice  to 
stop. 

"  We'll  talk  about  it  later.  Bring  Gerry  to  me  this 
afternoon.  She's  a  pretty  little  thing,  but  has  she  any 
brains?" 

Densie  took  the  affair  as  a  joke.  She  could  not  con- 
vince herself  otherwise.  She  did  not  intend  Kenneth 
should  marry  Geraldine  Poole,  but  she  was  wise  enough 
not  to  forbid  his  engagement;  there  were  far  better,  more 
gradual  methods,  she  fancied. 

"Oh,  she's  a  wonderful  mind!"  Kenneth  cham- 
pioned. "  She  can  —  why,  she  can  —  well,  she's  the 
dearest  girl  in  town,"  he  ended  in  self-defense. 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

They  had  reached  the  hotel  and  he  helped  his  mother 
out  and  carried  in  her  bags.  When  they  were  in  their 
rooms  Kenneth  lingered  about. 

"  Was  there  anything  else,  dear?  "  Densie  was  look- 
ing at  her  accumulation  of  mail. 

"  Did  you  have  a  perfect  blaze  of  glory?     I  read  the 


accounts." 


"Rather!  Everything  successful  save  Harriet. 
She's  a  nervous  wreck,  but  she's  moved  to  a  hotel  and 
I  think  it  will  work  out  splendidly.  Harriet  never  should 
have  kept  house.  Have  you  seen  Sally?  " 

"  I  took  dinner  with  them  last  night,"  he  grumbled. 
"  I  can't  go  Rex.  Awful  pill !  Beastly  to  Sally  —  that 
quiet  cold  sarcasm  handed  to  you  on  a  silver  platter." 

Densie  dropped  her  letters.  "  You  don't  think  she  is 
happy?" 

Kenneth  looked  very  grave,  as  a  newly  engaged  young 
man  should  look  when  questioned  on  matters  of  the 
heart. 

"  I'm  afraid  not;  she  bucks  up  pretty  well.  Now  I 
wouldn't  want  Gerry  to  suspect  they  were  unhappy  be- 
cause she  —  er  — well  —  she  might  think  it  sort  of  runs 
in  the  family,  you  know  " —  he  avoided  Densie's  eyes  — 
"  and  she  would  not  marry  me." 

Densie  coughed  discreetly. 

Then  Kenneth  added,  "  I'm  off  to  the  office  now, 
mummy,  and  it's  jolly  you're  back.  I  missed  you  worlds; 
and  don't  worry  about  my  not  doing  my  bit  over  there 
when  the  time  conies.  You  know  my  old  dream  of  being 
a  captain!  " 

Densie  smiled.  "  My  boy,  after  all."  She  blew  him 
a  kiss.  "  Bring  Gerry  for  tea  —  good  luck,  dear." 

At  the  four  o'clock  tea  with  her  future  daughter-in-law 
Densie  felt  she  was  wasting  a  precious  hour  with  this 

320 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

frizzled  haired  girl  in  her  saintly  frock  lavishly  embroid- 
ered with  gold.  Kenneth  was  the  only  happy  person  of 
the  trio;  with  blind  masculine  conceit  he  now  felt  his 
women  were  united,  and  he  looked  first  at  Gerry  with 
blindly  adoring  eyes  and  then  with  proud  admiration  at 
his  mother,  and  then  fell  to  demolishing  the  sandwiches 
with  a  perfectly  normal  appetite. 

Geraldine  regarded  Densie  as  her  natural  foe,  though 
she  simpered  pretty  nothings  and  agreed  to  everything. 
She  was  afraid  of  Mrs.  Densie  Plummer  just  as  she 
rather  envied  Mrs.  Rex  Humberstone  and  had  a  con- 
tempt for  Mr.  John  Plummer.  There  was  something 
about  Densie  that  inspired  her  awe  —  her  dignity,  her 
gowns,  her  clever  fashion  of  finding  out  what  one  really 
thought  no  matter  what  one  said.  As  for  Densie,  she 
regarded  Geraldine  as  an  overdressed,  wild  little  Ameri- 
can and  regretted  that  calf  love  was  necessary  in  this 
day  and  age.  How  much  better  if  Kenneth  could  have 
fallen  prey  to  some  other  person  —  any  other  person,  in 
fact,  than  this  affected  creature  with  no  ability  for  real 
emotion.  However,  with  the  approaching  war  and  Ken- 
neth's absence  it  would  all  blow  over,  for  he  would  re- 
turn to  find  Geraldine  some  other  man's  prize,  and  in 
youthful  disillusionment  he  would  seek  out  his  mother 
and  be  set  right  again.  As  Densie  planned  it  it  promised 
well! 

Geraldine  told  Kenneth  that  she  was  afraid  of  his 
mother,  she  was  such  a  stupid  little  thing,  and  his  mother 
did  not  want  him  to  marry  her  —  making  great  tearful 
eyes  all  the  while.  They  were  in  Geraldine's  home  and 
she  felt  more  at  ease  than  in  Densie's  little  salon. 

"She's  so  clever  —  and  I'm  not;  and  neither  is  my 
mamma.  But  then,  my  mamma  loves  my  papa,"  she 
ended  with  an  ugly  little  laugh. 

321 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

At  which  Kenneth  took  on  his  own  shoulders  the  entire 
blame  for  it  all  and  said  that  Densie  loved  Geraldine  and 
he  worshiped  her,  nothing  short  of  that,  and  that  he 
loved  her  father  and  mother,  and  his  own  father  and 
mother  were  happy  —  oh,  quite  happy,  only  in  a  differ- 
ent sort  of  way  —  he  could  not  just  explain  it. 

Appeased  somewhat  Geraldine  secured  the  promise  of 
a  silver  chain  purse  like  Sally's  and  then  she  added  coyly, 
"  You  won't  enlist  when  we  go  to  war,  will  you,  Ken- 
neth? Wait  until  they  make  you  go.  You  know  I'm  al- 
most your  wife,  and  that  makes  a  difference." 

"You'd  want  me  to  go,  wouldn't  you?"  he  begged. 
"  You'd  wait  for  me  if  I  was  over  in  France  fighting?  " 

Geraldine  burst  into  tears.  "  I'd  lose  my  mind,  I'd 
worry  so!  I'd  be  afraid  you'd  lose  an  arm  or  leg.  I'd 
die  if  you  came  back  with  one  arm!  Don't  leave  me, 
Ken!  Why,  you'd  get  no  pay  at  all  if  you  went  and 
enlisted !  " 

"  But  it's  duty,"  he  corrected  with  a  graveness  worthy 
of  older  years;  "  and  even  you,  Gerry,  could  not  make 
me  forget  that." 

Something  in  his  manner  warned  her  she  had  tres- 
passed a  bit  too  far.  She  had  only  entered  the  first 
romance  zone,  and  her  claims  on  the  lad  were  fragile  and 
easily  shattered.  It  would  be  time  enough  when  war 
was  a  reality.  Maybe  the  old  war  would  be  over  by 
Valentine's  Day!  It  did  seem  as  if  one  poor  little  girl 
who  had  never  harmed  anyone  might  claim  the  diamond 
ring  which  was  promised  her  for  a  valentine!  Even  if 
the  whole  affair  with  Densie  Plummer's  son  came  to 
naught  else  —  that  ring  would  have  made  it  worth  while. 

Densie  did  not  go  out  in  the  evening,  so  she  met  her 
husband  as  he  came  into  their  rooms.  He  had  a  way 
of  walking  in  swiftly  as  if  he  would  prefer  not  to  be  seen. 

322 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

There  was  an  eternal  shame  in  his  mind  in  being  known 
as  Mrs.  Densie  Plummer's  husband  and  having  to  take 
his  wife's  checks  down  to  the  desk  in  payment.  He 
longed  to  change  to  some  obscure  room  such  as  Sam 
Hippler  and  Maude  Hatton  had  once  had,  and  there  be 
free  to  lead  his  own  life  in  his  own  way. 

"  Oh,"  he  said  in  customary  fashion,  "did  you  have 
a  good  time?  " 

'  Yes,  did  you  get  the  newspapers?  " 

Densie  made  no  pretense  of  kissing  him.  She  was 
contrasting  him  with  the  senator  as  she  looked  at  him. 

"  The  boy  got  them,  I  saw  him  reading.  I  didn't 
bother.  I  dare  say  I  wouldn't  have  understood  what  it 
was  all  about.  Were  you  going  down  to  dinner?  " 

"  I  thought  we  might  have  it  up  here  for  a  change; 
I'm  rather  fagged." 

"  Surely  not  en  famille?  "  he  said,  smiling.  "  What 
an  event!  " 

Densie  telephoned  her  order  without  comment.  "  I 
am  sorry  we  cannot  eat  together  more  often."  She 
pushed  out  a  card  table  to  act  as  the  festive  board. 
"  But  we  never  seem  to  be  interested  in  the  same  things. 
Harriet  is  very  run  down;  she  is  moving  to  a  hotel.  This 
Leila  married  suddenly,  and  it  completely  upset  her. 
Harriet  ought  never  to  have  any  bosom  friend,  she  ought 
to  give  her  whole  self  to  her  work." 

"Human  beings  are  a  nuisance,  aren't  they  —  when 
one  wants  a  career?  " 

John  was  standing  with  his  back  to  her,  watching  the 
gas  logs  burn  dismally. 

"  Oh,  not  that  —  only  certain  persons  are  meant  for 
certain  things  and  others  change  after  a  time  and  the 
old  regime  does  not  appeal  to  them."  Densie  felt  con- 
fused annoyance.  She  wished  she  had  not  suggested  the 

323 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

little  dinner.     "Has  Ken  told  you  his  great  secret?" 
She  was  anxious  to  change  the  subject. 

"  I've  guessed  it,"  John  said  quietly.  "  No  one  ever 
tells  me  anything.  We've  changed  places,  you  and  I, 
Densie.  I  understand  how  you  felt." 

Densie  was  silent. 

"  It  is  Geraldine  Poole,  isn't  it  —  that  flaxen  haired 
sylph?  I've  seen  the  handwriting  on  the  wall  for  some 
time.  Are  they  engaged?  " 

"  So  Ken  says  —  she  is  a  brainless  atom  and  it  will 
never  last.  This  war  will  make  a  man  of  him." 

"  Oh,  is  there  going  to  be  a  war?  " 

"  Certainly  —  and  our  boy  must  go." 

John  drummed  on  the  chair  arm.  "  She  won't  want 
him  to."  This  by  way  of  making  a  remark. 

"  That  is  where  the  breach  will  come.  I'm  not  worry- 
ing. I  know  him  too  well.  It  is  a  trifle  annoying,  that's 
all.  Young  marriages  are  mistakes." 

And  she  watched  John  open  the  door  to  the  waiter 
and  help  him  place  the  dishes  on  the  table. 

When  they  were  alone  she  asked,  "  What  do  you  hear 
from  Sally  and  Rex?  They  have  quite  a  self-centered 
life,  never  taking  part  in  anything  save  senseless  society 
nonsense.  And  do  you  know  how  Rex  gets  his  money? 
Their  hotel  is  twice  as  expensive  as  ours  —  and  they've 
a  beautiful  new  car." 

John  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  memories  of  the  fifteen 
per  week  and  the  white  linen  apron  making  his  voice 
a  bit  caustic.  "  I'm  too  busy  getting  rich  myself  to 
bother  about  the  other  fellow,"  was  all  he  would  say. 

Having  exhausted  their  family  as  a  topic  there  came  a 
great  lull.  Densie  was  planning  to-morrow's  schedule, 
wedging  in  a  visit  to  Sally  and  one  to  the  exchange  out  of 
courtesy,  and  John  was  lost  in  his  own  thoughtr, 

324 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

After  dinner  she  excused  herself  and  said  she  would 
finish  her  letters,  -she  knew  he  wished  to  read. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  John  answered  formally;  "  I  do." 
And  there  was  an  unusual  emphasis  on  the  last  two  words. 

Returning  to  the  salon  for  an  address  book  Densie 
saw  that  he  was  lost  in  the  study  of  some  red-cloth  book. 
She  wondered  what  it  was  since  he  did  not  even  glance 
up  as  she  passed  through  the  room.  The  next  morning 
she  deliberately  hunted  for  it.  After  a  search  through 
his  meager  possessions  she  came  upon  it,  massed  about 
by  a  lot  of  magazines.  The  book  was  Practical  Farm- 
ing for  Beginners,  and  the  magazines  were  all  farm  and 
poultry  journals. 


325 


XXXV 

Densie  Plummer  found  her  daughter  having  an  in- 
excusably late  breakfast  in  her  room.  She  was  pretend- 
ing to  eat,  merely  wasting  her  food  and  glancing  at  the 
morning  paper  propped  beside  her. 

"  Good  morning,  mother  dear,"  Sally  said  easily  as 
Densie  entered,  "  I  was  going  to  phone  yesterday,  for  I 
supposed  you  were  back  from  New  York.  But  I  had  a 
wretched  headache  and  didn't  feel  able.  Better,  thank 
you;  just  that  lazy  feeling  that  seems  to  have  become  at- 
tached to  me.  Have  some  coffee?  Then  sit  over  there 
and  let  me  gaze  upon  my  famous  mummy." 

Sally  was  gentle  in  her  manner;  the  former  spirit  and 
impulsiveness  had  vanished.  She  was  like  an  old  woman 
in  a  young,  weary  body.  Unconsciously  Densie  shook 
her  head  as  she  looked  at  her.  The  red-gold  hair  was 
carelessly  combed  and  the  cheeks  'pale  and  sunken,  with- 
out their  customary  rouge.  Her  morning  gown  of  flame- 
colored  silk  accentuated  the  pallor.  Her  dead  eyes 
seemed  not  to  look  at  her  mother,  but  above,  beyond, 
away  —  it  was  hard  to  describe  their  evasive  method  of 
glancing  round  one. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Sally  dear?  Have  the  burdens 
of  the  world  fallen  upon  you?  " 

"  Don't  pry,  mummy.  It  is  nothing  —  just  awful  en- 
nui of  the  soul,  I  guess.  I  want  to  go  away  if  Rex  will 
let  me.  I  want  the  sea  —  did  you  ever  feel  that  you 
must  go  away,  miles  and  miles  away,  where  no  one  knows 
you  and  where  you  can  sit  on  the  beach  and  listen  to  thq 

326 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

boom-boom  of  the  sea  and  forget  everything  that  is  hap- 
pening in  the  world  of  men?  " 

"  Where  could  you  go  in  midwinter?  " 

"  Florida,  California  —  Bermuda  -  -  anywhere  —  I 
don't  care.  I'm  stifled  in  this  place  with  its  glaring  gilt 
decorations.  I  hate  the  gossiping  hotel  people,  I  can't 
gamble  well  enough  to  be  engrossed  in  cards,  cigarettes 
hurt  my  throat  and  cocktails  give  me  these  heads.  I 
don't  even  care  enough  to  get  up  an  affair  with  someone. 
I'm  just  a  foolish  sort  of  person,  one  who  cried  for  what 
she  should  not  have  all  her  young  best  days  —  and  when 
she  finally  got  it  —  didn't  want  it !  " 

"  Why  not  take  an  interest  in  something  worth  while? 
Come  down  to  the  Red  Cross  every  morning,  I  need  an- 
other clerical  worker.  Do  sewing  for  the  Belgian  chil- 
dren. There's  the  Armenian  and  Syrian  relief  that 
fairly  haunts  me  —  make  a  life  for  yourself  outside  of 
everyone  else  and  independent  of  them." 

Sally  shook  her  head.     "  I  am  only  a  slug." 

"  Why  are  you?  "  demanded  her  mother. 

Sally  shrugged  her  shoulders;  her  face  had  a  grayish 
look  that  was  alarming. 

"Won't  —  Rex  let  you?"  The  old  warm  current 
stirred  beneath  the  coating  of  ice. 

"  Don't  talk  about  it,  mummy.  Tell  me  of  New  York 
and  your  success." 

"  Tell  me  about  your  husband,  this  man  you  so  blindly 
adored,  who  seemed  to  mean  life  to  you  if  he  married 
you  and  death  if  he  did  not.  Why  is  it  all  so  hard,  my 
dear?  Tell  mummy." 

Densie  leaned  forward  sympathetically,  but  she  did  not 
hold  out  her  hands. 

"  I  cannot,"  was  all  Sally  answered.  "  If  you  love 
me,  mummy,  never  ask  me  again." 

327 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

At  which  interesting  juncture  Rex  made  his  appear- 
ance, spick-and-span  as  a  bridegroom,  his  wizened,  cop- 
per-colored face  newly  shaven  and  powdered,  the  mock- 
ing eyes  encased  in  their  too  vast  whites  a  trifle  blood- 
shot. 

"  My  dear  Mother  Plummer,"  he  said  suavely,  going 
over  to  her  with  utmost  deference,  "  and  how  are  we 
with  all  our  honors  and  patriotic  enterprises?  What  a 
little  woman  it  is  —  eh,  Sally?"  He  looked  at  the  girl 
sharply. 

"  So  I've  been  saying."  She  spoke  with  almost  nerv- 
ous fear. 

'  Well,  we  have  to  have  someone  in  the  family  with 
brains,"  he  added  with  the  suggestion  of  a  sneer.  "  I 
suppose  New  York  is  all  agog  with  war  agitation  —  the 
news  is  ominous,  isn't  it?"  He  picked  up  Sally's  news- 
paper and  pretended  to  study  it.  "  Afraid  we'll  have  to 
jump  in  and  whip  'em  a-plenty!  "  he  added  forcibly.  "  I 
hope  you'll  use  your  influence  all  you  can,  Mother  Plum- 
mer." 

"  I  am  working  night  and  day  for  it  —  we  must  do 
our  part.  Surely  the  nation  will  see  its  duty  in  time  to 
help." 

"  I  am  positive  of  it  —  pray  God,"  he  said  earnestly. 

Sally  let  a  cup  crash  on  to  the  floor.  "  So  sorry,"  she 
said,  her  lips  quivering. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  Rex  answered,  as  one  speaks  with 
veiled  warning  to  a  child  before  company. 

Though  Densie  approved  Rex's  attitude  she  wondered 
all  that  day  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  little  happening. 


328 


XXXVI 

Valentine's  Day  brought  Geraldine  the  coveted  ring! 
"  I'm  so  happy,  Ken  dear,  that  I'm  afraid  I  shall  die  be- 
fore I've  the  chance  to  wear  it!  "  she  said  honestly. 
"  Isn't  it  a  beauty?  And  a  carat  and  a  half.  Your  sis- 
ter's is  two  carats,  isn't  it?  And  your  mother  has  sev- 
eral." 

"  It  isn't  half  good  enough  for  you,"  he  assured  her, 
"  but  it  means  I  love  you  and  you  are  to  be  my  wife." 
All  the  trust  of  youth  was  in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  spoke. 
"  When  we  are  married  you  shall  have  all  the  rings  I  can 
buy  if  you  still  want  them." 

Geraldine  showed  the  ring  to  Densie  and  Sally  with 
coy  shyness.  Both  praised  it  and  kissed  her  in  preoccu- 
pied, rather  indifferent  fashion,  while  John  Plummer 
looked  at  her  a  long  time  without  speaking,  causing  her 
to  blush  and  vow  an  everlasting  hatred  for  the  old 
grocery  clerk. 

Her  mother  and  father  called  Kenneth  "  our  boy,"  and 
after  the  advent  of  the  ring  they  explained  how  necessary 
it  was  for  Geraldine's  happiness  that  they  all  live  to- 
gether. To  which  plan  he  assented,  smothering  a  trifle 
of  disappointment. 

"  The  war  clouds  are  ominous,"  Mrs.  Poole  had  ex- 
pounded, "  and  if  you  must  go,  Ken,  our  little  girl  had 
better  stay  with  us." 

The  day  after  Valentine's  Day  Densie  had  the  greatest 
honor  of  all  conferred  upon  her.  The  President  wished 
to  see  her;  he  wished  her  cooperation  in  a  campaign  for 

329 


war  relief.  It  was  not  generally  announced  that  Mrs. 
Densie  Plummer  was  to  confer  with  the  Chief  Executive 
at  Washington  and  his  assistants,  but  everyone  became 
aware  of  the  matter  whom  Densie  wished  to  become 
aware  of  it,  and  when  asked  by  the  newspapers  as  to  the 
truth  of  the  report  she  said  that  she  neither  affirmed  nor 
denied  it.  The  society  column  of  the  same  issue  had 
the  leading  notice  to  the  effect  that  Mrs.  Densie  Plum- 
mer had  left  for  Washington. 

But  a  still  greater  joy  came  to  her,  though  she  tried 
not  to  admit  it  —  even  greater  than  that  never-to-be- 
forgotten  morning  conference  spent  in  the  White  House 
hearing  naught  but  praises  and  being  asked  for  sugges- 
tions. Densie  thought  as  she  stood  on  the  steps  of  the 
White  House  after  the  session  was  ended  that  she  must 
have  reached  the  zenith  of  her  career.  She  recalled 
briefly,  as  drowning  men  review  their  lives  in  swift,  furi- 
ous panorama,  the  various  ways  in  which  she  had 
ascended  the  ladder. 

But  the  greater,  more  personal  joy  and  satisfaction 
came  when  Senator  Gleason  kidnapped  her,  as  he  ex- 
plained to  her  secretary,  and  made  her  go  with  him  into 
Virginia  to  his  winter  home,  the  home  that  had  been  for 
many  years  without  a  proper  mistress. 

"  I  must  catch  the  night  train,"  Densie  said  in  con- 
fusion. 

1  You  may  —  but  first  you  shall  give  me  the  after- 
noon! " 

So  they  drove  through  the  country  roads  to  the  es- 
tate —  Glen  Laurie  —  where  the  old  servants  welcomed 
their  master  with  enthusiasm,  and  one,  older  than  the 
others,  added  feebly,  "  Mass'r  and  Missis,"  pretending 
ignorance  as  to  the  falseness  of  the  statement. 

The   house  was   a  rambling  white   affair   with   well- 

330 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

planned  grounds  and  diamond-paned  windows,  jutting 
balconies  at  unexpected  places,  servants'  quarters,  stables, 
gardens  —  everything  which  went  to  comprise  a  South- 
ern estate.  With  an  old  mammy  as  guide  the  senator 
and  Densie  went  through  the  partially  dismantled  rooms. 
He  showed  her  the  portrait  of  his  wife  over  the  fire- 
place in  the  entrance  hall  —  a  gentle-faced  girl  with 
glowing,  happy  eyes.  Something  in  the  expression  re- 
called Sally  as  she  had  been  at  twenty. 

When  they  finished  the  tour  of  inspection,  Densie  hav- 
ing been  for  the  most  part  silent,  the  senator  made  her 
linger  in  the  hallway  while  he  said:  "  I've  waited  as  long 
as  I  intend  to  wait,  Densie.  The  boy  has  given  his 
heart  away,  and  you're  lonesome.  I'm  lonesome.  I 
want  a  home.  I  cannot  have  a  home  alone  —  I  want 
you.  Don't  you  think  I've  been  patient  long  enough?  " 

Densie  did  not  answer  at  first.  She  looked  up  at  the 
portrait  of  the  young  wife.  The  senator  thought  she 
was  thinking  of  his  first  and  deeper  love  and  strove  to 
argue  with  her  that  this  was  not  so.  But  it  was  not 
the  case,  for  the  portrait  had  blurred  into  many  and  com- 
posite portraits  —  Aunt  Sally  and  Uncle  Herbert,  Densie 
herself  as  a  child,  sitting  in  the  walnut  rocker  to  do  her 
spool  crochet  and  learning  that  she  was  to  have  a  brother; 
John  astride  his  pony  in  the  kitchen  garden,  the  Little 
House  as1  they  had  come  to  it  after  their  wedding  journey, 
the  first  day  Harriet  walked  and  John  and  Densie  cele- 
brated it  as  a  general  does  a  victory,  Kenneth  as  a  baby, 
Sally  as  a  girl,  Densie  in  her  old-style  clothes,  her 
martyred  outlook  upon  life;  and  finally,  after  this  bewil- 
dering sort  of  experience,  the  portrait  persisted  in  becom- 
ing that  of  a  tired  man  with  kindly  eyes  and  grizzled 
hair  —  with  a  linen  apron  tied  about  him  and  toil-worn, 
degraded  hands. 

331 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Then  she  said,  "  I  cannot.  I  am  an  old  woman  and 
I  cannot  play  as  you  would  have  me." 

"  You  are  not  old;  you  are  young.  I  am  not  old,  nor 
shall  we  let  ourselves  grow  old  in  spirit.  Look  at  me, 
Densie  —  say  you  don't  care.  Ah,  you  cannot,  can 
you?" 

'  We  could  never  find  happiness  by  riding  roughshod 
over  someone  else's  unhappiness." 

"Who  would  be  unhappy?  Who  cares?  Who  has 
cared?  Tell  me." 

Despite  her  logical  self  trying  to  dominate  and  accept 
this  crowning  glory,  Densie  found  that  blurred  psychic 
portrait  of  the  tired  man  would  not  vanish. 

"  Oh,  not  now,  my  dear,"  she  begged;  "  not  now,  any- 
way." 

"  But  you  do  care?  "  he  urged. 

"  I  care,"  she  admitted  slowly.  "  I  wish  I  were  free 
to  say  '  yes.'  ' 

"Then  you  shall  be  free  —  that  is  enough  of  an 
answer." 

Stooping  swiftly  he  kissed  her. 

All  the  way  home  Densie  kept  thinking  of  the  portrait 
of  the  girl  bride  which  seemed  so  lonely  and  deserted, 
and  of  the  psychic  blur  which  made  the  tired-faced  man 
come  into  the  frame,  and  of  the  boyish,  gentle  little  sena- 
tor—  good  as  only  few  men  are  good,  this  Densie  knew, 
and  his  joy  at  her  halfway  answer.  Before  morning  she 
found  herself  beginning  to  plan,  half  shamedly,  half 
gladly,  about  the  future.  Strangely  the  President's 
praise  and  requests  melted  like  mist  from  her  horizon. 
Only  the  future  with  James  Gleason  occupied  her  atten- 
tion. John  had  asked  for  his  freedom  once  —  it  had 
not  been  Densie's  fault  that  he  had  not  had  it.  And 

332 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Kenneth  had  given  his  heart  away  as  the  senator 
prophesied.  How  very  wonderful  it  would  be  to  enjoy 
an  Indian  summer! 

Then  followed  the  deluge  of  love  letters,  love  letters 
as  amusing  as  were  Kenneth's,  even  more  so  since  these 
two  had  the  added  wisdom  of  years  to  make  them  im- 
pressive. The  senator  was  detained  in  Washington, 
fretting  under  the  delay.  But  he  would  join  Densie 
as  soon  as  he  possibly  could  and  they  would  make  definite 
arrangements  as  to  the  future  — "  the  immediate  future, 
dearest,"  he  added,  underlining  the  words. 

As  rosy  cheeked  as  a  schoolgirl  Densie  hid  the  letters 
in  her  secret  drawer  and  spent  half  the  day  reading  a 
book  of  love  poems  he  had  sent  her.  Her  secretary 
suddenly  discovered  that  the  work  for  Mrs.  Plummer 
was  double  what  had  been  represented  to  her.  But 
Densie  good-naturedly  engaged  an  assistant;  she  did  not 
quibble  over  anything  these  days.  She  even  smiled  ten- 
derly upon  Geraldine  and  gave  John  a  handsome  scarfpin 
for  his  birthday,  refusing  his  thanks  almost  brusquely; 
and  she  told  Sally  that  love  was  the  most  wonderful 
thing  in  the  world  and  she  ought  to  keep  romance  alive. 
Just  then  Densie  saw  the  world  through  rose-colored 
spectacles.  No  pair  of  lovers  could  be  counted  foolish. 
Her  mission  in  life,  as  all  normal  women's  when  the 
heart  is  wooed  and  won,  became  microscopic  in  impor- 
tance. Careers  she  admitted  were  naught  but  sedatives 
with  which  the  loverless  and  unwanted  drug  themselves 
to  still  the  ache  of  loneliness.  The  President  would 
have  been  surprised  if  he  could  have  seen  the  way  in 
which  Mrs.  Plummer  disposed  of  her  affairs  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye  and  devoted  the  best  part  of  her  day  read- 
ing and  answering  letters  from  James  Gleason. 

333 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

The  senator's  friends  had  a  brief  but  forcible  way  of 
summing  up  the  situation.  '  Jim's  a  good  fellow,"  they 
would  concede,  "  a  mighty  good  fellow  —  but  there's  no 
fool  like  an  old  fool!  " 


334 


XXXVII 

War  broke  over  America  to  sober  Eastertide,  and 
Densie,  jarred  from  selfish  reverie,  plunged  again  into 
the  activities  of  her  nation.  Likewise  the  senator  was 
preoccupied  and  overburdened  with  detail;  director  of 
energies,  they  soon  learned  to  call  him. 

"  We  must  not  think  of  ourselves  just  now,"  Densie 
wrote  Easter  Sunday;  "not  for  a  little  time  at  least. 
We  must  do  what  is  needed  without  flinching,  for  who 
can  say  what  will  be  needed  of  any  one  of  us?  I  am  so 
proud  of  you  and  your  speech  —  I  wanted  to  come  and 
tell  you  so.  That  speech  inspired  me,  and  I  shall  take 
up  the  torch.  If  we  get  the  ballot  in  my  state  this  year 
I  shall  resign  from  all  active  suffrage  work  and  give  my 
time  to  war  work  and  organizations.  I  am  at  your  dis- 
posal in  any  such  matters,  and  want  suggestions.  My 
dear,  my  dear,  how  wonderful  it  is  to  be  both  a  boy  and 
a  strong  statesman !  " 

As  she  sealed  the  letter  she  thought  with  scorn  of  her 
husband's  attitude  toward  the  war,  and  his  commonplace 
comments. 

"  We're  in  it  now  and  we'll  have  to  go  through,"  he 
had  declared,  "  but  we  never  need  have  gotten  into 
it  —  never.  Profiteers  that  did  it,  that's  what  it  was. 
Watch  the  bank  accounts  of  impecunious  dealers  grow  — 
watch  'em  and  watch  the  middleman's  shrink  —  watch 
the  game,  that's  all  I  have  to  say." 

Densie  had  indignantly  refuted  the  facts,  stating  the 
principles  of  idealistic  democracy  which  the  younger  na- 
tion had  chosen  to  champion.  She  quoted  several  of 

335 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

James  Gleason's  sentiments,  but  John  only  shook  his 
head  and  declined  to  argue. 

"  This  is  a  free  country  —  up  to  now,"  he  declared, 
"  and  I've  the  right  to  say  it  was  never  necessary  to  enter 
this  war." 

"Are  you  disloyal?"  Densie's  eyes  were  dangerous. 

"  No,  I'll  do  whatever  is  asked.  I  stand  by  America 
and  you  know  it.  But  I've  my  opinion,  just  the  same." 

So  they  dropped  the  subject  and  retired  with  their  per- 
sonal ideas  regarding  each  other. 

Densie  posted  the  senator's  letters  herself;  there  was 
all  the  charm  of  a  girl's  stealing  to  the  old  oak  tree  at 
dusk  to  find  the  rustic  letter  box  about  mailing  the  sen- 
ator's letters  and  marking  them  "  Personal  "  in  her  prim 
firm  hand.  Returning  from  mailing  one  at  the  corner  — 
she  never  posted  them  in  the  hotel  —  she  heard  a  fa- 
miliar whistle  and  turned  to  see  Kenneth  hurrying  after 
her,  his  face  white  with  excitement. 

"  I'm  going  to  enlist,"  he  said  breathlessly.  "  I'm 
not  going  to  wait  to  be  called.  I  want  to  work  my  own 
way  up  and  stand  on  my  own  merits.  I  don't  want  you 
to  use  your  influence,  mummy." 

Densie  felt  a  trifle  faint.  The  great  impersonal  view- 
point of  the  war,  the  speech-making  and  relief  organiza- 
tion, the  directing  of  committees  —  was  one  thing,  which 
required  ability  and  special  qualities  of  perseverance  and 
aggressiveness,  but  these  small  silent  sacrifices  of  one's 
son,  just  a  common  private,  one's  only  son  —  were  things 
which  only  the  boy's  mother  and  God  would  remember 
and  understand. 

"  Ken,  right  away?  "  she  said,  ashamed  as  she  spoke, 
for  it  might  have  been  the  way  Geraldine  Poole  would 
have  answered  his  heroism. 

He  had  taken  her  arm  and  he  bent  over  her  anxiously. 

336 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  You  sound  like  I  know  Gerry  will  sound,"  he  said  in 
surprise.  '  I  thought  you'd  sing  out  for  joy  and  make 
me  feel  all  set  up.  You  must;  I  cannot  stand  two  weep- 
ers. Dad  will  growl,  and  Sally  doesn't  care.  I  thought 
you'd  be  proud  —  that  you  would  want  me  to  go  before 
I  was  ordered.  I  want  to  begin  like  any  other  boy  and 
make  my  own  way." 

"Oh,   I  do  — of  course." 

But  the  words  lacked  the  emphasis  of  her  usual  decla- 
rations. They  went  up  to  their  rooms  and  found  John 
reading  the  papers. 

"  Kenneth  is  going  to  enlist,"  Densie  said  as  she  stood 
beside  her  tall  son  and  tried  not  to  tremble.  "  He  wants 
to  go  before  he  must.  I  am  glad." 

She  knew  her  voice  broke.  The  relief  work,  the  com- 
mittees, the  speeches  —  were  like  phantoms  beside  a  real 
flesh-and-blood  sacrifice. 

John  dropped  his  paper,  his  rather  dead  eyes  looked  up 
at  the  boy  and  a  glow  of  understanding  came  into  them. 

"You  —  young — rascal,"  he  said  slowly,  trying  to 
make  himself  appear  indifferent,  even  humorous,  but  the 
timbre  of  his  voice  told  Kenneth  that  at  last  his  father 
thought  him  a  man. 

"  I  want  to  tell  Gerry,"  he  added.  "  She'll  feel  it 
most  of  all."  This  with  unconscious  selfishness.  "  So 
I'll  dig  out.  I'm  going  in  the  Army,  mummy;  you  better 
start  knitting  me  a  whole  trousseau.  I  want  to  be  very 
spoiled  and  babied  and  have  a  box  every  week  I'm  in 
camp.  But  I  guess  we  won't  linger  in  camp  any  too 
long —  it's  France  for  ours!  "  he  finished  joyously. 

"  Why  don't  you  let  me  try  and  see  if  we  cannot  use 
you  in  some  other  place  to  more  advantage?"  Densie 
urged  in  spite  of  herself.  "  There  are  numbers  of  strong 
men  with  no  brains  —  an  officer  supplies  the  brains  — 

337 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  when  a  boy  has  both  a  strong  body  and  brains  he  — 
he  ought  to  think  well  before  he  casts  his  lot  with  com- 
mon soldiers." 

She  took  hold  of  his  arm.  She  had  pictured  for  so 
long  the  battlefields  with  their  dead  and  dying,  in  order  to 
rouse  public  generosity,  that  it  all  rushed  over  her  now 
with  a  new,  personal  meaning.  Supposing  this  boy,  flesh 
of  her  flesh,  idol  of  her  heart,  should  lie  dying  some 
hideous  winter's  night  — 

"  Let  him  alone,"  John  was  saying.  "  If  he  wants  to 
start  at  the  beginning,  let  him  start."  He  held  out  his 
hand  to  Kenneth  in  silent  understanding. 

Kenneth  grasped  it  eagerly.  They  seemed  to  come 
close  in  spirit  —  these  two  of  such  long-standing  es- 
trangement. And  they  both  pitied  the  weakness  of  a 
woman  —  perhaps  that  was  what  drew  them  together. 

After  Kenneth  had  rushed  off  to  Geraldine,  John  and 
Densie  sat  before  the  fireplace  and  waited  for  the  other 
to  speak. 

The  senator's  love  letters  seemed  trivial  and  absurd. 
Densie's  work  took  the  form  of  drudgery.  She  thought 
with  dismay  of  the  list  of  engagements  on  to-morrow's 
calendar.  Her  boy  was  going  to  enlist.  She  remembered 
Aunt  Sally's  Civil-War  stories  —  the  spirited,  brave  boys 
who  marched  jauntily  away  and  who  sent  back  those 
funny  little  knapsacks  containing  their  trinkets.  It  was 
always  some  grizzled  old  man  who  came  to  tell  of  their 
death.  Oh,  how  old  everything  could  become  all  in  an 
instant!  She  was  old,  old  to  her  very  heart;  and,  bitter- 
est sting  of  all,  Kenneth  had  told  her  hurriedly  that  he 
might  spend  hours  consoling  a  flaxen-haired  little  doll 
who  cared  no  more  for  him  than  she  did  for  any  stranger 
who  could  give  her  an  equally  handsome  diamond  ring. 
How  little  Gerry  would  care  should  he  return  maimed  — 

338 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

maimed.  Her  heart  thumped  so  loudly  she  wondered  if 
John  could  hear  it.  She  glanced  at  him,  but  he  was  no 
longer  sitting  in  a  dejected,  careless  fashion;  he  was 
leaning  over  toward  the  little  fire,  his  hands  up  to  his 
cheeks,  and  his  face  was  smiling,  triumphant. 

"  John,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  our  boy  is  going,"  and 
she  smothered  a  sob.  '  This  war  —  this  awful,  cruel 
war  —  was  it  necessary?" 

He  turned  in  surprise  to  look  at  her. 

"  Impersonal  speeches  don't  hold  when  freedom  asks 
for  your  youngest  born,  do  they?"  he  said  gently. 
"  I'm  proud  of  him.  He's  the  stuff  to  win  the  damned 
thing.  Why,  we  had  to  get  into  this  scrap,  Densie,  even 
if  we  didn't  want  to  because " 

He  began  a  quick,  rather  superficial  but  sincere  sum- 
mary of  the  situation,  leading  up  to  his  argument  that  it 
was  America's  job  to  finish  the  fight  and  that  his  son 
was  about  to  enlist  —  no  slacker  —  no,  sir  —  no  waiting 
for  a  cotton-wool  commission  or  a  wheel-chair  officer's 
job  —  no,  by  God,  a  soldier,  a  man  with  a  gun!  And 
he  was  proud  of  him.  Most  boys  would  have  hidden 
behind  their  mothers'  skirts  and  had  them  wield  their 
influence,  but  not  Kenneth  Plummer. 

Then  as  he  saw  tears  on  her  cheeks  and  the  expression 
of  the  dark  blue  eyes  he  added  kindly:  "  But  he's  your 
son,  Densie,  so  he  would  not  have  done  differently." 

"  Thank  you."  Something  about  the  compliment,  as 
delicately  formal  as  a  sonnet  to  a  French  marquise, 
touched  her.  It  was  generous  of  John !  "  I  must  learn 
to  knit  everything  —  he  must  go  well  equipped  —  as 
well  equipped  as  his  mother  —  and  —  and  his  father  can 
send  him." 

John  thanked  her  vaguely,  but  he  knew  that  Densie  was 
thinking  of  the  senator  as  the  co-equipper. 

339 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Geraldine  took  the  news  just  as  everyone  expected 
she  would  do.  After  several  long  reels  of  tears  and 
protests  she  finally  managed  not  to  faint  by  dint  of  Ken- 
neth's protecting  arm,  and  proceeded  to  ask  him  if  there 
would  be  any  nice  military  hops  held  at  camp  and  if 
there  was  any  chance  of  her  visiting  him  and  meeting 
all  the  officers. 

"  Darling,  this  is  war  —  it  isn't  military  school.  But 
I  guess  my  mother  will  come  to  see  me,  and  you  can  come 
with  her." 

"  Your  mother  wouldn't  want  to  take  me;  I  know  she 
wouldn't."  Here  she  dissolved  in  fresh  tears,  "  Oh, 
Ken,  if  you  die  I  shall  become  a  cloistered  nun." 

At  that  identical  moment  she  was  recalling  a  certain 
traveling  man  with  whom  she  still  corresponded. 

"No,  you  must  not" — youth  does  love  to  play  at 
tragedy — "you  must  be  very  brave  and  live  your  life 
just  as  I  would  have  had  you  do."  This  with  an  attempt 
at  being  masterful  and  protecting.  "  I  shall  leave  a  — 
a  letter,  you  know,  with  my  lawyer."  The  letter  and  - 
lawyer  were  both  new  inspirations,  and  Kenneth  decided 
to  engage  such  a  person  and  write  such  an  epistle  in  the 
morning. 

"What  will  be  in  the  letter?"  she  asked  rather  co- 
herently for  such  a  weeping  young  person. 

"  I  could  not  tell  you  now,"  he  answered  truthfully. 

A  trifle  appeased  Geraldine  began  other  tactics. 

"  I  want  a  lot  of  souvenirs  from  France,  Ken.  Do  you 
think  you  could  get  me  any  gloves  in  Paris?  I  thought 
I  remembered  someone's  saying  how  cheap  they  were, 
no  one  wants  any  white  kid  gloves  over  there  now." 

"I'll  try  —  but  I  won't  be  thinking  much  of  gloves. 
You  see  my  theory  is  this,"  he  said,  dashing  off  into  out- 
lining an  American  campaign  warranted  to  wreck  the 

340 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

stoutest  of  Teuton  defenses.  He  even  sketched  some- 
thing on  the  corner  of  an  envelope,  which  Geraldine  pre- 
tended to  inspect,  yawning  as  she  did  so. 

Later  she  suggested,  "  Darling,  let's  be  married  be- 
fore you  go.  I'd  rather  be  a  widow  than  an  old  maid." 
She  looked  at  him  in  appeal. 

'  What  would  you  live  on?  "  the  boy  asked  anxiously. 
"  You  know  I've  got  to  get  my  start  by  myself.  I  don't 
think  we  will,  Gerry;  not  right  away.  Let's  wait  until  I 
know  I'm  going  over,  then  maybe  it  will  be  the  best 
thing.  I  don't  believe  I  could  bear  to  leave  you  unless  I 
knew  you  were  all  mine,"  he  added  softly.  Kenneth  was 
like  Densie  during  the  impersonal  side  of  the  war  propa- 
ganda, the  reality  of  it  had  not  yet  made  itself  felt. 
"  Maybe  I'll  have  won  a  commission  then;  you'd  rather 
marry  a  d-dashing  lieutenant  than  a  common  Sammy, 
now  wouldn't  you?  "  He  kissed  her  hair. 

"  I  want  to  marry  you,"  she  insisted.  "  I  shall  not  let 
you  go  unless  we  are  married  —  oh,  how  terrible  war 
is!  "  she  added  pettishly. 

After  more  comforting  Kenneth  suggested,  "  Can't 
you  chirk  me  up;  I  need  a  few  kind  words  as  the  old  song 
goes.  Don't  go  into  more  weeps !  Why,  even  mummy 
wasn't  up  to  the  trick.  It  was  father  who  said  he  was 
proud." 

"  I'm  proud  of  you,"  wailed  Geraldine,  "  but  I  love 
you  so  much !  Ken,  if  we  had  a  military  wedding  just 
think  what  a  sensation  if  would  be  —  and  one  of  the 
first.  If  we  wait  much  longer  they'll  be  very  common. 
We  could  have  The  Star-Spangled  Banner  played  instead 
of  Lohengrin,  and  you'd  wear  your  uniform  and  I'd 
wear  red,  white  and  blue,  and  we'd  have  the  wedding 
cake  decorated  with  flags  and  I'd  cut  it  with  your 
sword!  " 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

She  was  quite  animated  over  the  prospect. 

"  But  I  won't  have  any  sword,  maybe,"  Kenneth  tried 
to  explain. 

After  all,  women  were  distressing  when  it  came  to  the 
really  big  things  of  life,  he  thought.  A  man's  quick 
handshake  and  a  "  you-old-rascal  "  were  much  more  soul 
satisfying. 

'  Then  you  can  rent  one,"  she  retorted. 

At  which  Kenneth's  sense  of  humor  got  the  better 
of  him  and  he  laughed,  thereby  offending  her  mightily. 
After  another  hour  of  argument  and  protest  and  love 
avowals  he  left,  frazzled  to  the  last  ounce  and  feeling  as 
if  he  had  done  trench  duty  for  a  fortnight.  Geraldine 
was  left  with  her  own  thoughts  —  which  no  one  but 
herself  suspected. 

Things  might  be  worse,  Kenneth  was  certain  to  be 
made  an  officer  because  of  his  mother.  Then  he  would 
have  a  midsummer  furlough  and  he  could  spend  every 
hour  of  it  with  herself  and  they  would  plan  for  the  wed- 
ding. She  would  also  visit  him  at  camp,  there  would 
be  endless  goodlooking  men  about,  and  before  he  sailed 
they  would  be  married.  As  a  young  officer's  widow  — 
what  worlds  do  lie  before  one ! 

Smiling  discreetly  she  dashed  off  a  coquettish  note  to 
the  traveling  man  in  Kankakee ! 


342 


XXXVIII 

Sally's  conduct  upon  hearing  the  news  was  the  most 
disquieting  of  all  and  equally  unexpected.  Kenneth  de- 
spaired of  understanding  his  womenfolks.  He  told  his 
father  about  it. 

"  She  just  gave  a  scream  you  could  hear  two  blocks 
and  went  into  her  bedroom  and  —  bang  —  down  she 
went,  and  there  she  lay  across  the  bed  sobbing  and  moan- 
ing like  a  regular  leading  lady.  Now  can  you  get  it?  " 

"  I  suppose  she  meant  to  say  she  regretted  your  going," 
his  father  said  rather  sarcastically. 

Kenneth  had  dropped  into  The  Golden  Rule  Tea  Store 
to  impart  this  information.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
come  in  to  see  his  father  in  years,  and  the  clerks  looked 
at  him  curiously.  John  Plummer,  forgetful  of  his  apron, 
stood  in  the  aisle  talking  to  his  son.  Kenneth  also 
seemed  oblivious  of  the  white  apron  and  the  gaping 
clerks.  He  had  realized  in  the  last  twenty-four  hours 
that  even  the  most  brilliant  mummy  in  the  world  cannot 
be  both  father  and  mother,  that  there  are  certain 
father  things  that  are  distinctly  out  of  her  realm. 
This  quiet  encouraging  camaraderie  at  such  a  time 
was  one  of  them.  It  seemed  good  to  be  friends 
with  his  father,  the  shabby  dad  who  lived  like 
an  unbidden  shadow  in  his  mother's  apartment. 

"  That's  a  cheerful  way  to  tell  a  chap  —  mummy  turns 
white  whenever  she  sees  me,  and  can't  talk  about  it. 
Geraldine  was  prostrated  —  poor  little  girl  —  and  Sally 

343 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

faints  right  off  the  bat.  I  suppose  Harriet  will  write  me 
one  of  her  notes  of  evaporated  affection  and  send  me  a 
pair  of  ear  laps,"  he  concluded  cynically. 

"  You  wanted  to  have  a  bit  of  a  fuss  made  over  you  — 
that  it?  "  asked  his  father.  "  Never  mind,  Ken,  women 
are  queer,  they  always  do  the  thing  you  least  expect  and 
then  are  furious  if  you  accuse  them  of  having  been  any- 
thing but  logical  and  consistent.  I  guess  it  will  work  out 
all  right.  Sally  is  all  nerves  anyway,  and  your  mother 
will  be  brave  at  the  finish.  As  for  this  Geraldine,  I  can't 
pretend  to  say." 

"  Rex  came  in  before  I  left.  I  never  liked  him,  but  I 
must  say  that  he  acted  white;  wanted  to  get  me  a  good 
set  of  field  glasses.  Decent,  wasn't  it?" 

"  Oh,  yes;  Rex  is  decent  in  those  ways." 

And  his  father  obeying  a  warning  nod  from  the  man- 
ager went  back  to  dishing  out  spices  and  thinking  with 
strange  pride  that  his  boy  was  one  of  the  first  to  go. 
Hang  it  all,  why  wasn't  it  America's  fight  as  much  as  any- 
one else's?  Only  he  had  failed  to  read  the  handwriting 
on  the  wall.  Well,  it  was  America's  fight,  and  his  boy 
was  one  of  the  first  to  go.  No  need  urging  it  —  no  red 
tape,  no  exemption  —  no  waiting  for  the  draft.  John 
Plummer  absentmindedly  weighed  out  overgenerous 
quantities  of  spice  before  he  became  conscious  of  his 
errors.  He  was  heart  and  soul  a  patriot  through  the 
magic  of  personal  sacrifice,  ready  to  join  the  Knights  of 
Liberty  or  to  tar  and  feather  the  first  pacifist  caught 
skulking  about  his  hearth. 

Harriet  did  send  a  letter  of  evaporated  affection  and  a 
gift.  But  Sally  did  not  come  out  of  it,  as  Kenneth  and 
his  father  hoped.  Even  Densie,  recovered  from  the 
shock,  was  amazed  at  her  daughter's  attitude.  Rex 
gave  the  boy  a  handsome  present  and  delivered  it  with  a 

344 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

speech  of  well  wishing  and  congratulation.  But  Sally 
did  nothing,  refusing  to  see  him  or  talk  about  it,  and 
when  her  mother  upbraided  her  in  the  matter  her  face 
turned  that  warning  gray  color  that  preceded  a  faint. 

"  What  is  it,  Sally?  This  boy  of  ours  needs  all  our 
sympathy,"  her  father  said  one  evening.  He  rarely  saw 
Sally  and  he  was  shocked  at  the  change  he  found.  "  It 
seems  as  if  the  lad's  sister  should  stand  by  him  —  do 
some  little  thing." 

He  was  looking  at  her  magnificent  costume  of  green 
net  with  mother-of-pearl  trimming  and  a  flat  white-satin 
hat.  She  had  dropped  in  to  see  her  people  on  the  way 
to  a  theater,  but  Densie  was  not  home. 

"  Rex  gave  him  something,"  she  said  bitterly. 

"  I  know,  but  —  it's  the  things  women  make  that  the 
boys  like.  He's  our  only  boy,  Sally;  all  we  have  to 
offer." 

John  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  drew  her  to 
him.  There  had  come  a  great  change  in  John  Plummer 
since  the  night  before  Kenneth's  enlistment  —  a  regain- 
ing of  his  dignity.  He  was  self-possessed  and  kindly, 
and  the  harsh  discontent  somewhat  faded  from  his  face. 

"  My  girl,  what  bothers?  I  don't  like  the  look  in 
your  eyes." 

"  Father,"  she  answered  with  a  great  effort,  "  do  not 
ask  me  about  Ken.  I  tell  you  I  cannot  bear  to  make 
anything  for  him  or  talk  to  him  or  see  him  go.  If 
he  wants  money  all  he  has  to  do  is  tell  me  —  for  there 
is  plenty  of  money.  But  let  me  alone;  I  have  nothing 
to  say.  I  hate  the  war!  I  won't  think  of  it!  And  that 
is  all." 

"  But  is  it  —  quite  all?  "  he  persisted. 

"Oh,  quite."  She  forced  a  smile.  "Tell  Ken  I 
love  him,  but  I'm  not  myself —  I'll  do  better  writing  let- 

345 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ters  to  him.  Besides  he  has  mummy  and  Gerry  and 
Harriet." 

"  But  he  wants  Sally,  too.     He  needs  us  all." 

She  broke  away.  "  I'm  so  tired  to-night,  father ; 
don't  ask  me  anything  more." 

"  But  you  are  always  tired,  Sally,  and  yet  you  never  do 
anything,"  he  could  not  refrain  from  adding. 

"  Yes,  isn't  it  funny?  " 

She  almost  screamed  in  a  nervous  frenzy,  and  before 
he  could  stop  her  she  had  gone. 

The  day  Kenneth  left,  Densie  had  word  from  the  sena- 
tor that  he  would  be  in  the  city  that  evening.  It  gave 
her  a  false  stimulus.  She  began  telling  herself  sharply 
that  her  son  was  a  minute  sacrifice  and  much  work  must 
be  done  to  keep  the  camp  fires  burning  after  he  had  gone. 
She  had  devoted  as  much  time  to  Kenneth,  per  se,  as  was 
fair  to  her  other  duties;  she  resolved  that  after  her 
visit  with  the  senator  she  would  begin  again  to  do  all 
that  was  expected  of  her. 

Sally  did  not  say  good-by  to  the  boy;  she  feigned  a 
headache  and  sent  him  an  incoherent  note.  Rex  de- 
livered it  with  apologies  and  profuse  well  wishes,  but 
Kenneth  was  aggrieved  at  the  neglect. 

"  I  might  have  gone  in  to  see  her,"  he  complained  to 
his  mother.  "  It  isn't  the  way  Sally  used  to  be  —  why 
can't  she  bear  the  war?  It  is  her  war  as  much  as  mine. 
Gerry  is  coming  to  the  station,"  he  supplemented 
proudly. 

And  Gerry  did,  only  to  burden  him  with  fudge  and 
photographs  and  to  be  the  last  to  touch  his  hand  and 
kiss  his  ilps,  turning  with  supercilious  scorn  to  say  to 
John  Plummer,  "  I  suppose  you  wish  you  were  young 
again!  " 

At  which  John  thought  of  the  worse  fates  awaiting  a 

346 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

man  than  a  bullet,  and  Densie  turned  away  to  hide  a 
smile. 

That  night  John  Plummer  went  walking,  tramping  up 
and  down  lonely,  poorly  lighted  streets  so  that  only  his 
thoughts  might  keep  him  company.  He  wanted  to  re- 
joice in  his  son,  in  the  new  meaning  of  fatherhood,  in 
his  pride.  He  wanted  to  wonder  leisurely  why  Sally 
would  not  bid  her  brother  good-by;  to  fancy  what  Sam 
Hippler  would  have  said,  and  Uncle  Herbert  and  Aunt 
Sally;  to  picture  how,  if  they  were  still  at  the  Little 
House,  they  would  have  given  the  boy  a  joyous  send 
off,  a  real  old-time  party  with  two  kinds  of  cake  and 
homemade  ice  cream,  the  piano  jingling  tempting  dance 
music  and  the  older  folk  sitting  back  to  smile  approval 
on  the  young;  and  of  how  the  minister  would  have  come 
in  to  say  a  simple  prayer  of  godspeed  and  the  boys  and 
girls  would  have  gathered  round  the  young  soldier  to 
pledge  their  friendship  anew  —  and  how  very  good  it 
would  have  been  to  have  had  all  this  happen ! 

At  the  same  time  Densie  and  the  senator  were  talking 
somewhat  of  Kenneth,  but  more  of  themselves  and  a 
little  of  the  war  situation  and  new  duties  confronting 
each. 

"  I'm  glad  he  went  as  he  did,"  the  senator  told  Densie. 
"  However,  we  will  keep  an  eye  on  him;  there  will  be  the 
right  moment  for  helping  him  on  a  bit." 

"It  makes  romance  seem  very  thin,  doesn't  it?" 
Densie  asked  presently.  "  We  haven't  the  right  to  our 
Indian  summer  yet.  Suppose  if  the  boy  were  decorated 
—  or  killed  —  and  his  father  and  I  divorced!  It  would 
rob  either  the  honor  or  the  sorrow  of  its  dignity.  Not 
yet,  dear,"  she  ended  wistfully. 

"But  some  day?"  he  urged.  Just  then  the  cares  of 
state  lay  lightly  on  them  both. 

347 


"  Some  day,"  she  assented,  but  in  her  heart  it  did  not 
thrill  her  as  formerly. 

Kenneth's  camp  letters  were  amusing  and  wholesome; 
they  robbed  war  of  its  sinister  meaning.  After  a  little 
Densie  was  accustomed  to  his  absence,  she  knew  he  was 
doing  the  thing  which  was  his  duty  and  it  satisfied  her. 
She  was  too  busy  with  impersonal  things  to  miss  him 
personally.  For  she  was  seldom  at  home  —  and  out  of 
the  city  the  greater  part  of  the  time.  She  was  in  de- 
mand for  campaign  work  throughout  her  state.  Her 
secretary  demanded  still  another  assistant,  which  was 
forthcoming;  and  even  the  senator  grumbled  that  she 
cheated  him  of  his  rights,  she  ought  to  give  him  one  hour 
on  Sundays  which  was  not  punctuated  heartlessly  with 
telephones  and  calling  patriots  who  all  thought  that  Mrs. 
Densie  Plummer  would  know  just  the  right  thing  to  do. 

Once,  from  a  sense  of  duty,  Densie  asked  Geraldine  to 
luncheon,  but  she  was  so  bored  with  the  girl's  senseless 
drivel  that  she  was  thankful  her  son  was  at  camp,  since 
he  would  surely  see  Geraldine  as  she  really  was  upon 
his  return.  She  had  intended  taking  Geraldine  when  she 
visited  the  camp,  but  she  so  irritated  her  that  Densie 
canceled  her  resolve. 

When  she  visited  Kenneth  and  explained  that  Ger- 
aldine was  too  impossible  to  bring  along,  that  she, 
Densie,  was  too  occupied  with  duties  to  bear  with  a 
giggling  flapper,  Kenneth  said  very  little.  But  Densie 
saw  her  error.  She  realized  he  would  have  rather  seen 
the  giggling  flapper  than  his  mother,  and  he  asked  more 
questions  about  his  father  than  about  anyone  else. 

"  I  expect  a  summer  furlough,"  he  said  when  Densie 
was  leaving,  "  and  I'll  make  it  up  to  Gerry  then.  Poor 
little  girl,  it  is  hard  on  her,  mummy;  you  should  have 
thought  of  that." 

348 


Which  gave  Densie  food  for  reflection  on  her  journey 
back,  though  when  she  phoned  Geraldine  the  next  after- 
noon her  mother  said  she  was  motoring  with  an  out-of- 
town  friend  who  had  just  happened  in  and  demanded 
to  be  entertained.  This  gave  Densie  still  further  re- 
flective food.  Wisely,  she  did  not  write  Kenneth  the 
news. 

Densie  Plummer  forgot  her  thirty-fifth  wedding  an- 
niversary until  Sally  sent  over  some  handsome  flowers. 
AH  at  once  she  recalled  the  day,  and  wondered  if  John 
remembered.  She  decided  to  thank  Sally  personally  and 
stem  any  hint  of  sentimental  memories  which  might  try 
to  sweep  over  her.  This  was  no  time  for  emotion.  She 
scribbled  a  few  hasty  lines  to  Kenneth,  fondly  locked 
away  the  senator's  latest  letter  and  took  a  taxi  to  Sally's 
hotel. 

Rex  was  leaving  as  she  came  in. 

"  Good  morning,  Mother  Plummer,"  he  began 
graciously.  "Many  happy  returns  of  the  day  —  Sally 
never  remembers  our  anniversary,  isn't  she  the  wretch? 
But  she  had  your  florist's  order  placed  a  week  ago. 
Well,  what  of  the  boy?"  He  was  laughing  down  at 
her,  mocking  her,  it  seemed. 

Densie  stared  rudely  at  him,  she  was  thinking  that  he 
seemed  to  be  younger  in  some  ways  than  her  own 
daughter. 

"  Very  well,  I  brought  his  last  letter.  He'll  be  home 
shortly;  then  you  can  see  for  yourselves.  Harriet  is  as 
well  as  she  ever  seems  to  be;  she  has  had  another  ad- 
vance in  her  work." 

Rex  left  them,  bowing  respectfully  to  his  mother-in- 
law  and  kissing  Sally  on  her  cheek,  during  which  Sally 
sat  as  unmoved  as  an  Elgin  marble. 

"Don't   you   want   to   read   Ken's    letter?"     Densie 

349 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

asked.     "  You  usually  have  hysterics  if  I  try  to  read 
them  to  you." 

"  If  he's  well  that  is  enough  —  I'll  send  him  a  hamper 
of  things." 

"  Don't;  they  have  good  fare  and  this  Geraldine  per- 
son makes  fudge  daily,  I  believe.  Save  your  money, 
Sally.  Uncle  Sam  is  going  to  need  it." 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  Dean  Laddbarry,"  Sally  said  un- 
expectedly. "  He  has  just  formed  a  company,  an  alfalfa 
industry  of  some  kind.  At  this  time  it  may  be  expedi- 
ent —  a  food  substitute  —  he  is  to  make  tea,  flour,  ex- 
tract, Heavens  —  a  complete  larder,  for  all  I  know. 
He  has  had  chemists  analyze  the  stuff  and  pronounce  it 
fit,  and  he  wrote  to  say  he  had  heard  that  Ken  was  in 
training  and  he  would  like  his  address.  His  company 
is  being  operated  with  government  sanction,  which  is  his 
way  of  doing  his  bit.  It  was  a  nice  letter.  Dean  never 
changes!  " 

Densie  was  silent;  that  warm  flowing  current  under 
the  ice  coating  would  stir  at  most  inopportune  times. 

"  I  sent  the  flowers  because  I  knew  father  would  never 
think  of  the  day  —  and  the  senator  would  hate  it,  be- 
cause it  was  not  his  anniversary  too."  She  smiled  at 
her  demure  mother.  "  I  wonder  what  you  will  do  with 
the  senator.  Come,  fess  up  to  your  weary  old  married 
child.  You're  only  fifty-three,  and  you  look  thirty-five 
—  and  you  know  the  senator  cares  very  hard." 

"  Sally,"  Densie  protested,  "  with  your  brother  in 
training  and  father " 

"In  a  linen  apron!  Mummy!  Why  not  be  truth- 
ful as  you  used  to  suggest  to  me  —  what's  the  harm? 
I'd  like  to  see  you  mistress  of  Glen  Laurie." 

"What  would  you  do  with  your  father?"  Densie 
could  not  refrain  from  adding. 

350 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

War  or  no  war,  what  woman  can  resist  the  prospect 
of  a  wedding? 

"  Oh,  we'd  find  another  Mrs.  Starr,"  Sally  answered 
flippantly.  "  Please  don't  leave  Ken's  letter  —  send  it 
to  Harriet.  You  know  I've  no  brains  these  days.  I 
couldn't  read  it  with  any  understanding." 

*  You  read  Dean's,"  suggested  her  mother. 

"Tit  for  tat  —  eh?"  Sally  laughed  at  the  turned 
tables. 

John  did  remember  the  anniversary.  All  day  the 
panorama  of  the  past  unrolled  itself  before  him  —  the 
wedding,  Densie  in  her  going-away  dress  of  dove-colored 
broadcloth,  tilts  and  curves  and  fussy  rosettes,  the  dotted 
chenille  veil  to  hide  her  blushes,  the  love  of  a  bonnet  — 
his  own  tall  self,  top  hatted,  with  a  brave  mustache  and 
a  paddock,  bottle-green  coat!  The  wedding  journey, 
the  blessed,  glorious  young  time  of  their  romance  —  and, 
sweetest  of  all,  the  return  home! 

"  God  bless  our  home,"  Densie  had  said  reverently  at 
the  first  meal  together. 

And  they  had  wandered  through  the  rooms  like  de- 
lighted children  to  exclaim  over  everyone's  kindness  and 
their  good  fortune  —  finally,  they  stood  under  the  ma- 
hogany framed  picture  of  the  Child,  which  Aunt  Sally 
had  given  them  from  The  Evergreens,  a  rare  print  that 
had  been  her  mother's,  the  same  picture  under  which  the 
three  children  had  later  stood  when  they  recited  their 
Bible  verses  on  a  Sunday  morning  —  and  as  they 
paused,  John  remembered  Densie's  saying:  "  I  feel  He 
does  bless  us,  John!  " 

Well,  that  was  thirty-five  years  ago,  and  it  was  all 
ended.  So  he  hurried  about  the  store  taking  off  canvas 
covers  and  unnailing  boxes  and  trying  to  stop  remember- 

351 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ing,  wondering  in  between  customers  as  to  his  boy  and 
why  Sally  could  not  bear  to  talk  of  the  war. 

That  night  Densie  waited  for  him;  she  was  sorry  she 
had  not  remembered  the  day  ahead  of  time  so  she  could 
dine  with  him,  irksome  though  it  might  be.  But  it  was 
too  late  to  readjust  her  schedule.  So  she  waited  to  ex- 
plain and  say  some  polite  thing  of  scant  meaning. 

When  she  saw  him  she  knew  what  had  happened. 
The  warm  flowing  current  rose  in  rebellion  against  the 
ice  coating.  As  she  had  once  been  able  to  read  his 
thoughts  and  those  of  her  children  so  she  reclaimed 
temporarily  her  ability. 

He  did  not  hesitate  to  confirm  her  fears.  "  I'm  dis- 
charged, Densie,"  he  said  quietly.  "  I'm  too  old  to  be 
working  for  someone  else,  they  said  —  like  Sam  Hip- 
pier.  They  say  I  am  set  in  my  ways  and  irritable. 
F- funny,  isn't  it  —  to  be  called  old  at  fifty-five?"  He 
almost  shuffled  across  the  room  to  find  his  pipe.  "  I 
shan't  stay  about  here.  It  isn't  fair  to  you.  I  want 
to  see  the  boy  first,  and  then  I'm  off  to  begin  'again  — 
farm,  I  think.  I'd  like  to  get  back  to  where  things  grow. 
Perhaps  it  isn't  as  rough  luck  as  it  sounds." 

He  sank  into  his  chair  and  puffed  moodily  away. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  said  politely  —  but  she  knew  it 
was  not  true.  She  was  not  sorry.  Her  shame  at  hav- 
ing a  clerk  for  a  husband  would  be  ended.  She  would 
help  him  start  a  farm  and  regain  his  grip  on  things  — 
that  was  only  fair  if  she  was  to  marry  James  Gleason. 

"  I'll  advance  whatever  you  need,"  she  offered.  It 
was  impossible  to  mention  a  wedding  anniversary  at  this 
juncture. 

He  started  up  angrily,  his  face  flushed,  his  voice 
broken. 

352 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

u  I'll  take  no  more  of  a  woman's  money  —  no  matter 
how  things  have  changed  about !  " 

Late  that  night  Densie  wrote  the  senator  what  had 
happened. 

"  It  will  work  out  for  the  best,  I  am  sure,  but  we  must 
be  patient.  My  husband  must  get  a  fresh  start  —  for 
he  is  still  in  his  prime.  It  was  a  severe  and  undeserved 
blow  as  nearly  as  I  can  tell.  .  .  .  Do  you  understand 
why  I  have  written  as  I  have?" 

To  which  the  senator  promptly  replied :  "  Nothing 
terrifies  me,  dearie-dear,  I  shall  brook  every  obstacle. 
Start  the  whole  world  again  if  you  like.  But  you  must 
belong  to  me.  Be  brave,  we  shall  make  trials  vanish  as 
if  we  waved  a  fairy  wand  instead  of  mortal  fingers!  " 

This  comforted  Densie.  She  even  decided  to  broach 
the  subject  of  financing  John's  farm  plan  again.  He 
was  penniless  and  he  must  do  something.  His  pride 
would  soon  retire  in  favor  of  common  sense.  She  so 
honestly  wished  him  well  that  she  would  make  him  agree 
to  her  ideas.  She  had  cured  herself  of  cabin  fever  and 
she  had  been  as  penniless  as  John.  It  was  John's  turn 
this  time! 


353 


XXXIX 

Kenneth's  furlough  came  in  August.  The  senator  had 
seen  to  that,  for  Densie  still  had  hopes  that  her  boy 
might  be  given  a  commission  or  some  sort  of  ordnance 
work.  With  all  her  bravery  for  other  mothers  and 
wives  her  boy  seemed  set  apart,  that  he  must  not  march 
to  the  trenches  with  the  other  shuffling,  obedient  feet. 

Geraldine  had  decided  that  this  furlough  would  be 
the  time  for  her  marriage.  To  allow  Kenneth  to  go  to 
France  without  making  her  his  wife  was  quite  unfair. 
She  wanted  to  be  known  as  "  young  Lieutenant  Plum- 
mer's  girl  bride  "  or  "  Mrs.  Rex  Humberstone's  sister- 
in-law." 

To  this  plan  her  parents  agreed.  After  the  first  ef- 
fusive greeting  Geraldine  broached  the  subject.  But 
Kenneth  laughed  at  her. 

"  Gerry,  we'd  be  as  poor  as  church  mice.  What 
would  you  live  on?  " 

u  Oh,  but  you'll  be  an  officer  and  have  a  lot  of  field 
decorations.  You  are  bound  to;  your  mother  won't  let 
you  stay  a  common  soldier.  And  I  love  you  so  much  — 
and  you  may  never  come  back." 

"  All  the  more  reason  we  ought  not  marry."  Ken- 
neth was  serious;  he  did  not  see  she  was  play-acting  and 
underneath  her  heartbroken,  affectionate  attitude  was 
shrewd  calculation,  and  that  her  tears  were  forced  and 
sparse  of  quantity. 

"But  we  love  each  other  —  war  is  such  a  monster! 
Ken,  I  can't  be  happy  unless  I  belong  to  you." 

Kenneth  disengaged  himself  and  paced  up  and  down 

354 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  room.  He  looked  well  in  his  uniform,  Gerry  was 
not  the  only  one  who  admitted  it.  Sally  and  his  mother 
had  been  superlative  in  their  praises,  while  his  father 
had  gazed  at  him  with  proud  reserve  —  as  if  the  matter 
were  something  which  men  never  mentioned,  but  took  for 
granted. 

"  Geraldine,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  don't  believe  we  un- 
derstand what  marriage  means  —  or  war.  And  when 
marriage  and  war  coincide  as  they  do  in  our  case  I 
think  we  ought  to  be  awfully  sure  of  ourselves.  We've 
got  to  go  over  there  and  fight  our  blooming  heads  off 
to  whip  these  beggars,  and  you  people  have  got  to  stay 
home  and  save  your  money  and  do  your  part.  You've 
no  idea  of  what  there  is  ahead  and  of  what  we  want  to 
do  —  and  are  going  to.  The  end  is  clear,  but  the  way 
is  not  yet."  Then  he  laughed  boyishly.  "  I  don't  mean 
to  play  the  terrifying  ogre,  dear.  Don't  cry  —  please." 
He  came  and  sat  beside  her. 

"  It  does  frighten  me  —  cannons  and  being  shot  at 
sunrise  —  and  those  pretty  Red  Cross  nurses  —  English 
girls  —  they  say  you  are  bound  to  fall  in  love  with 
them !  "  Which  was  the  only  honest  fear  Geraldine 
had  so  far  expressed.  "  I  know  papa  and  mamma 
wouldn't  want  me  to  be  engaged  to  a  soldier  —  it's  too 
uncertain." 

"  Then  why  marry  one?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  different  —  it  is  all  settled  then,"  she  said 
in  a  clear  and  emotionless  voice.  She  saw  her  opportun- 
ity, and  before  her  real  meaning  could  appeal  to  the 
boy  she  added,  "  Ken,  are  you  tired  of  me?  Oh,  yes  I 
Yes,  you  are  —  you  don't  want  to  be  tied  to  poor  little 
stay-at-home  me !  " 

"  Nonsense !  "  He  gathered  her  roughly  in  his  arms. 
"  You  think  I  don't  love  you,  Gerry?  Why,  I'll  do  any- 

355 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

thing  in  the  world  you  say  —  I've  written  you  every  night 
of  my  life,  haven't  I?  I've  dreamed  of  you " 

"  Your  mother  wouldn't  take  me  with  her  to  camp," 
she  sulked. 

"  Mummy  had  to  have  so  many  people  talk  to  her 
that  she  couldn't  put  herself  in  your  place,  she  didn't 
realize  how  you  felt.  I'd  have  rather  seen  you,  darling. 
And  I  want  to  protect  you  and  do  what  is  right.  You  un- 
derstand—  don't  you?  Only,  everything  has  changed 
since  I've  been  in  camp.  I  stopped  being  just  an  atom 
and  living  an  atom's  existence,  and  I'm  on  the  brink  of 
helping  do  something  big,  coming  face  to  face  with  real- 
ity. And  no  one  can  ever  be  quite  the  same  afterward  — 
the  fellows  all  agree  on  that.  You  cannot  go  over  there 
to  fight,  to  offer  your  life  for  the  great  cause,  and  then 
come  back  the  same  old  two-by-four  petty  person.  Just 
because  I  feel  I'm  going  to  change  I  want  to  be  really 
myself  before  we  marry  —  no  transitional,  nerve-shat- 
tered person  that  is  liable  to  disappoint  you  or  make  you 
unhappy.  It  wouldn't  be  fair.  Suppose  I'm  gassed,  or 
maimed,  captured  —  how  can  you  tell  what  difference 
it  might  make  to  you?  That's  the  danger  of  marrying 
a  soldier  before  he  sees  service  —  you  never  know  how 
he  is  going  to  be  afterward.  But  I  love  you  —  love 
you  —  love  you !  "  he  punctuated  the  words  with  kisses. 

Geraldine  was .  quietly  furious.  If  she  could  not 
marry  this  soldier  she  would  take  steps  to  have  him  be- 
come the  old  plastic  Kenneth  who  would  do  her  bidding 
unquestioned.  But  she  was  wise  enough  merely  to  pout 
and  look  unusually  pretty. 

"  I  may  change,  too,"  she  objected.  "  How  about 
that?  All  the  good-looking  men  won't  be  in  France. 
Suppose  I  change?" 

Kenneth  only  laughed.  "  Why,  here  we  are  fighting 

356 


phantoms.  And  when  we  know  we  really  care  and  will 
be  married  as  soon  as  it  is  right,  why  do  we  waste 
precious  hours  of  my  stay  in  town?  I  won't  be  serious 
again  or  let  you  be  —  not  another  tear  —  we  are  going 
to  have  the  time  of  our  lives!  Promise  me!"  He 
kissed  her  cheek. 

Geraldine  brightened.  "I  want  you  for  the  Fassett 
dance  next  Friday,"  she  said  cleverly,  "  I've  said  you 
could  stay  until  then." 

Kenneth  frowned.  "  Don't  it  beat  all?  I'm  due  at 
camp  Thursday  morning;  that  would  make  me  two  days 
late.  I  can't,  darling;  honestly,  I  can't." 

"  But  you  are  not  fighting  battles  —  and  what  does 
two  days'  difference  make?  Please,  Ken!  You  can  ex- 
plain it  to  your  senior  officer  —  your  mother  can  write 
a  note."  She  was  unconscious  of  the  grim  humor  of 
the  last. 

Kenneth  was  perplexed.  "  We  won't  fuss  about  the 
Fassett  dance  now;  we'll  crowd  in  all  the  good  times  we 
can  and  never  mind  if  we  miss  one  dance.  You  know 
a  soldier's  first  duty  is  obedience,  Gerry,  and  I  cannot 
say  I  stayed  two  days  overtme  for  a  dance !  " 

"  Get  extra  leave,"  she  suggested  promptly,  her  eyes 
narrowing. 

If  she  was  defeated  in  being  a  war  bride  she  was  not 
going  to  be  defeated  in  having  Kenneth  as  a  partner  for 
the  Fassett  dance.  She  was  determined  to  disgrace  him 
in  some  way. 

"Gerry,  you  don't  understand  —  if  you'd  been  at 
camp  you  would  have  known.  We're  an  Army  in  the 
making  and  raw  as  raw  can  be.  Why,  I  could  tell  you 
stories  of  the  mother-boys  and  homesick  duds  and  mere 
flukers  that  would  make  you  feel  apprehensive  v;hen  you 
thought  of  facing  the  Hun  fighting  machine.  We  have 

357 


got  to  be  whipped  into  shape  and  dig  in  and  make  good. 
And  that's  just  what  they  are  doing  to  us  too." 

But  Geraldine  was  not  stirred  from  her  own  resolve. 
She  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  whispered,  "  But, 
Ken,  there's  a  terrible  man  staying  at  the  Fassetts',  he 
wants  to  marry  me.  Oh,  it  has  been  very  hard  to  avoid 
him  and  not  let  the  Fassetts  know  what  a  persistent 
suitor  he  is.  I  told  him  my  fiance  would  be  here  and 
take  me  to  the  dance;  he  said  he  bet  he  would  not,  and 
I  said  I  would  wager  everything  in  the  world  that  he 
would.  Ken,  darling,  please  stay  over  —  won't  you? 
If  you  love  me ;  if  —  you  —  love  me." 

She  kissed  him  with  a  quick,  rapturous  little  way,  all 
her  own! 

Kenneth  did  not  answer.  Finally  he  said,  "  Do  you 
love  this  man?"  His  face  was  white  with  jealous  ap- 
prehension. 

"No  —  yet  he  fascinates  me,  he  has  a  sort  of  influ- 
ence over  me  —  I  cannot  bear  to  be  with  him  alone. 
I'm  such  a  silly  little  creature.  You  must  go  with  me 
and  let  me  keep  my  promise.  You  see  I  told  him  you 
would  come." 

"  Couldn't  you  give  up  the  dance?  " 

"Oh,  no!  That  would  be  an  admission  of  defeat; 
and  you  ought  to  see  my  new  dress!  Why,  Ken,  boys 
stay  overtime,  don't  they?" 

"  We  haven't  had  furloughs  yet  —  it's  all  so  devilish 
new  for  everyone  —  we  don't  know  yet  what  we  can 
do  and  what  we  can't  —  we  only  know  we  ought  to  obey. 
I  don't  like  to,  Gerry;  please  don't  ask  it.  Let  me 
write  this  man  and  tell  him  we  are  engaged, 
please " 

She  shook  her  frizzled,  brainless  head. 

358 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  No !  Either  go  to  that  dance  or  never  speak  to  me 
again!  "  She  drew  off  her  engagement  ring. 

Kenneth  stopped  her.  "  I'll  —  I'll  stay  over,"  he 
said  thickly. 

She  flung  her  arms  about  him.  "  You're  a  dear," 
she  whispered,  "  and  I  adore  you  I  " 

"  I  wish  you  might  have  understood  the  situation  and 
let  me  off,"  he  pleaded,  "  I  ought  not,  Gerry,  really,  I 
ought  not.  It  may  be  serious." 

She  shook  her  head  again  and  told  him  he  had  pledged 
his  word  —  and  what  did  two  little  days  amount  to  — 
think  of  the  food  they  would  save!  If  Geraldine  had 
had  her  way  the  most  active  part  she  would  have  allowed 
Kenneth  to  take  in  the  war  would  be  to  collect  used 
phonograph  needles  and  send  them  to  the  Government 
as  a  steel  donation. 

Densie  and  her  son  had  each  tried  to  fit  into  the  oth- 
er's spare  moments.  Densie  was  crowded  with  her 
work,  and  yet  she  longed  to  be  with  her  boy.  She  felt 
a  certain  jealousy  when  she  would  have  to  hurry  off  in 
the  morning  and  leave  him  talking  happily  with  his 
father.  She  often  wondered  what  these  two  talked 
about;  they  never  said.  It  would  be  too  early  an  hour 
for  Geraldine  to  be  up  or  for  Sally  to  have  had  her  coffee 
and  Rex  cleared  out  of  the  way,  so  Kenneth  and  his 
father  would  walk  in  the  park  if  the  day  was  fair  and 
talk  as  two  newly  found  and  cherished  friends  would  do. 

John  had  not  told  of  his  discharge.  He  felt  a  keen 
shame  in  confessing  it  to  this  soldier  son.  It  would  be 
time  enough  to  let  him  know  when  he  was  on  his  farm 
and  out  of  Densie's  way.  No  one  would  miss  him  but 
Kenneth,  and  after  the  boy  was  married  he  too  would 
feel  it  was  a  sensible  arrangement.  So  he  told  Kenneth 

359 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

he  was  taking  his  vacation  because  he  did  not  feel  well, 
and  the  boy,  too  occupied  with  his  own  projects  and 
worries,  did  not  doubt  the  statement. 

Again,  Densie  returning  for  luncheon  would  find  Ken- 
neth engaged  at  the  telephone  making  violent  love  to 
Geraldine.  Sometimes  she  would  stand  aside  and  smile 
at  the  terms  of  endearment  that  flew  over  the  wire. 

"  Ken,  dear,  don't  you  think  central  might  hear  you?  " 
she  urged. 

"  Bother  central!  The  more  I  see  of  Gerry  the  more 
I  love  her.  She  is  the  dearest  girl  in  the  world  —  and 
you're  the  most  clever,"  he  would  add. 

"  Thanks,  dearie.  What's  on  the  programme  for  to- 
day? " 

Kenneth  would  tell  her  —  it  was  mostly  Geraldine, 
with  a  faint  smattering  of  calls  or  talking  to  his  father. 

"Why  didn't  you  take  Gerry  to  camp?"  he  asked 
again,  the  day  before  the  Fassett  dance. 

"  Oh,  she  really  isn't  my  sort.  I  couldn't.  All  she 
knows  is  clothes  and  how  to  make  those  great  baby  eyes 
at  strangers.  Of  course,  she  is  a  dear,"  she  hastened  to 
add,  "  but  she  is  not  all  I  would  wish  for  you." 

Kenneth's  face  was  flushed.  "  A  man  doesn't  marry 
to  please  his  mother." 

"  I  will  make  her  welcome,  but  I  feel  she  is  not  the 
woman  you  will  love  when  you  are  forty." 

Kenneth  was  silent. 

"  You  have  until  Saturday  morning?  "  Densie  asked. 
"  Rather  decent !  " 

He  looked  away.     "  Yes,  it  is,"  he  said  shortly. 

"  You  won't  be  back  until  Christmas,  will  you?  " 

"  Not  then,  maybe." 

"  Look  at  me,  Ken.  What  are  you  hiding?  "  Den- 
sie tried  to  understand  the  expression  in  the  dark 

360 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

eyes.  '  You  acted  sheepish  —  ashamed.  What  is  it?  " 
'  You  imagine  it,  mummy."  He  began  fussing  with 
some  papers  on  the  table. 

"  Saturday  morning  —  I  must  be  at  the  train."  She 
made  a  note  of  it. 

"  Oh,  do  I  "  he  said  aimlessly. 

After  he  had  left  for  the  Fassett  dance  Densie  won- 
dered again  as  to  his  manner.  She  too  halfway  antici- 
pated a  foolish  marriage,  and  she  wondered  if  this  had 
been  the  reason  for  his  confusion.  But  surely  her  boy 
would  not  have  barred  her  from  his  confidence  —  not 
Kenneth!  She  dismissed  the  matter  because  of  other 
duties  and  went  to  sleep  only  to  dream  of  him  as  a  small 
clear-eyed  boy  saying,  "  I  am  going  to  be  a  captain,"  and 
of  a  grim  voice  from  out  of  nowhere  answering,  "  What 
a  pity  —  what  a  grave  pity!  " 

Geraldine  and  Kenneth  were  counted  the  most  hand- 
some couple  at  the  Fassett  dance.  And  to  her  delight 
Geraldine  flaunted  her  soldier  in  the  face  of  the  pre- 
suming Fassett  guest,  while  all  the  girls  looked  at  her 
with  envy  and  whispered  that  she  was  more  lucky  than 
she  deserved. 

Geraldine  declined  to  get  up  early  enough  to  see  him 
off  Saturday  morning;  it  always  gave  her  a  dreadful 
headache  if  she  did  not  have  enough  sleep,  she  explained. 
Besides,  his  family  would  be  at  the  train  and  she  did  not 
think  she  would  be  missed.  The  strain  of  saying  good- 
by  in  public  would  be  entirely  too  much.  She  would  say 
good-by  in  her  own  home  after  the  dance  —  in  her  own 
way. 

"  I  don't  know  my  own  mind  yet,"  Geraldine  told 
him  the  very  last  thing.  "  Sometimes  I  think  it  would  be 
a  mistake  to  marry  you.  I  better  marry  an  older  man, 

361 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

like   your   sister   Sally   did.     It   is   terribly   romantic!" 

Kenneth  wondered  if  he  heard  correctly.  "  Is  this 
a  joke,  Gerry?  Don't,  darling,  when  I  have  to  leave 
you " 

Geraldine  giggled  foolishly.  "  You  don't  think  I'm 
going  to  bow  down  and  adore  you  because  you  wear  a  uni- 
form, do  you?  I  won't  be  anyone's  slave.  I  do  like 
you,  Ken,  and  you  are  fascinating  " —  this  with  an  artful 
smile  — "  or  else  I  would  not  have  asked  you  to  go  to 
the  dance  and  monopolize  me  like  a  cave  man.  You 
don't  seem  to  realize  that  this  other  man  is  a  millionaire 
and  very  clever  in  his  own  line  of  work.  Because  if  I 
should  marry  him  he  would  plan  a  home  for  me  equal 
to  any  European  castle.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  he  was  a 
wonderful  architect." 

Kenneth  looked  at  her  like  a  forlorn  and  suddenly 
deserted  child. 

"  I  say,  Gerry,  this  is  a  bit  thick." 

Geraldine  shrugged  her  useless  pretty  shoulders  as  if 
she  were  bored  with  the  entire  world,  particularly  the 
corner  of  the  world  occupied  by  Kenneth  Plummer. 

"  I  can't  help  it,  Ken,  I  must  be  honest  —  you  know 
I'm  always  that  —  and  you  said  you  wanted  me  to  be 
sure  of  myself.  You  made  quite  a  point  of  it.  I  really 
had  to  have  you  go  to  the  dance,  because  I  wanted  the 
contrast  between  you  and  Nat;  it  was  the  only  way  for 
me  to  make  sure  which  of  you  won.  Even  yet  I'm  un- 
decided. Too  bad,  isn't  it,  when  you  have  to  rush  away 
to-morrow?  Well,  maybe  you'll  have  a  surprise  — 
maybe  you'll  see  me  again  before  you  think." 

"  But  you  said  —  why,  you  wanted  me  to  marry  you." 
He  was  floundering  about  in  a  bewildered  state  of  mind. 
"  Gerry,  what  has  come  over  you?  You  must  be  joking, 
but  it  hurts  —  can't  you  understand  ?  It  means  so  much, 

362 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  it's  war,  Gerry,  not  a  game  we're  playing  down 
there " 

She  drew  out  a  note  from  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 
"  Oh,  I'm  joking,  am  I  ?  "  she  asked,  holding  it  out  for 
him  to  read. 

In  a  man's  writing  was  the  message: 

"  Do  I  win  or  lose?  Let  me  know  soon  or  I'll  leave  town  at 
once.  NAT." 

Kenneth  crumpled  the  note  and  tossed  it  on  the  floor. 
'  Well,  he  shall  not  have  you !  "  he  said  harshly. 
"  I'll  tell  you  that  much !  You  are  mine.  I  overstayed 
my  leave  for  you,  and  I  wouldn't  have  done  that  for 
anyone  else  in  this  world  —  not  even  for  my  own  mother. 
You  said  you  wanted  me  at  the  dance  for  protection  — 
not  contrast;  that  this  man  frightened  and  fascinated 
you;  you  were  quite  clear  in  your  own  mind  whom  you 
wanted  to  marry  when  you  coaxed  me  into  overstaying 
my  leave !  Tell  me  the  truth,  Geraldine,  are  you  just 
playing  with  me  ?  " 

Something  in  the  set  of  his  mouth  and  a  glint  in  his 
tired  eyes  warned  Geraldine  she  had  overstayed  her  own 
power  and  she  had  better  hasten  to  take  refuge  in  the 
eternal  tears  and  tremblings. 

"  Oh,  you're  cross  —  all  cross !  He  was  cross  too. 
I  won't  love  either  of  you !  "  She  began  to  sob. 

Kenneth's  head  was  addled  and  he  was  physically  ex- 
hausted. He  sat  dejectedly  in  a  near-by  chair. 

"  I'm  all  in,"  he  said  disconsolately.  "  I  ought  to 
have  gone  back  on  time.  If  you  didn't  care  enough  for 
me  to  see  me  do  my  duty  I  guess  I  ought  not  to  have 
cared  enough  for  you  to  have  forgotten  itl  That's 
about  all  there  is  to  it." 

Geraldine  peeked  from  a  corner  of  her  handkerchief. 

363 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  be  sure  of  myself,"  she  reiter- 
ated, "  and  be  honest?  You  talked  about  being  changed 
—  gassed  and  losing  your  nerve  and  everything  horrid 
you  could  say.  And  I  just  want  to  be  alone  and  think  it 
all  out  —  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink  to-night.  I'll  be  too 
busy  deciding  whether  it  is  to  be  you  or  Nat.  Then  I'll 
tell  you  —  maybe  I'll  come  down  to  camp  and  see  you. 
Your  mother  did."  She  pouted  slightly  as  she  spoke. 
"  I  want  to  come  to  camp  terribly  —  they  say  you  have 
a  wonderful  time  and  everyone  makes  a  lot  of  fuss  over 
you  —  is  that  true?  " 

"  Well,  don't  come  rushing  down  without  letting  me 
know  first  and  without  bringing  your  mother.  Now,  re- 
member, Gerry,  that  holds.  You  can't  play  off  any  im- 
pulsive stuff  at  camp.  Great  Scott,  it's  war !  "  Ken- 
neth felt  tense  and  irritable,  as  if  he  never  wanted  to 
hear  this  girl's  thin  sweet  voice  or  see  her  baby-doll  face 
with  the  great  staring  eyes  as  cold  as  pale-green  water 
flowing  under  ice.  "  Write  and  tell  me  your  decision 
and  let  it  go  at  that  —  it's  pretty  late  and  I've  got  to 
pack.  I  shan't  sleep,  either.  If  you  decide  you  want 
to  wait  for  me  and  be  my  wife  I'll  try  to  make  you  happy, 
and  if  you  want  to  marry  this  other  fellow  —  well,  I'm 
going  to  try  not  to  be  too  unhappy." 

And  despite  her  protests  and  veiled  apologies  and 
kisses,  for  she  saw  her  error  too  late  to  retract  it,  Ken- 
neth left  her  to  walk  home  in  the  early  sultry  morning, 
entirely  conscience-stricken  at  what  he  had  done,  yet 
fairly  sick  with  longing  to  have  Gerry  love  him  and  be 
sure  of  herself!  He  still  took  her  seriously! 

His  father  and  mother  wondered  at  his  white  set  face 
as  he  bade  them  good-by,  and  at  the  grouchy  manner  in 
which  he  answered  Sally's  questions.  Something  had 
gone  wrong  between  himself  and  Geraldine  they  all  knew. 

364 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  had  said  good-by  to  him,"  Densie  told 
Sally  as  they  drove  home,  John  sitting  in  the  front  of  the 
car  busy  with  his  own  thoughts.  "  Did  you  notice  how 
unnatural  he  seemed?  He  scarcely  smiled,  and  his  kisses 
were  a  pretense." 

"  Some  quarrel  with  that  girl,"  Sally  said  slowly,  her 
lips  curving  in  scorn.  "  We  eat  our  hearts  out  at  Ken's 
age  over  a  lovers'  quarrel.  Never  mind,  mummy,  camp 
will  set  him  right  —  and  if  it  is  a  lasting  quarrel,  let  us 
all  give  thanks." 

"  Indeed  we  will,"  Densie  agreed.  "  Just  drop  me 
off  here,  Sally,  that  is  a  dear.  I'll  run  in  to  headquar- 
ters to  see  how  the  world  is  prospering." 

John  tipped  his  hat  to  her  as  she  did  so.  They  had 
not  spoken  alone  since  Kenneth  had  been  at  home.  Sally 
sank  back  in  relief  at  having  no  one  to  whom  she  had  to 
talk,  and  she  said  good-by  to  her  father  almost  brusquely 
when  he  reached  the  hotel.  She  was  afraid,  since  he  was 
idle,  that  he  would  come  inside  to  visit  her.  She  wanted 
to  go  to  her  room  and  sob  for  sheer  relief  —  her  nerves 
had  grown  to  demand  it  these  daysl 


365 


XL 

Sunday  Dcnsie  received  a  wire.  She  was  expecting 
her  usual  day  letter  from  the  senator.  So  she  did  not 
open  it  before  John,  but  waited  until  she  went  to  her 
room. 

A  moment  later  John,  who  was  figuring  up  the  cost 
of  farm  implements  and  planting,  heard  a  stifled  cry. 

He  wondered  if  it  was  imagination ;  Densie  never  suc- 
cumbed to  emotion,  her  tears  had  been  spirited  away  as 
had  been  her  cabin  fever.  Nevertheless,  he  went  to  her 
door  and  rapped. 

"John!  "  he  heard  her  call  as  she  had  not  called  in 
years. 

Opening  the  door  he  found  her  half  lying,  half  kneel- 
ing beside  her  bed,  the  yellow  paper  drifting  maliciously 
toward  the  carpet. 

She  pointed  to  it  with  a  trembling  inefficient  hand.  As 
he  picked  it  up  the  printed  words  flared  up  at  him  as  if 
imps  lighted  them  from  some  magical  apparatus  to  make 
each  letter  seem  framed  in  fire.  The  message  read: 

"  Your  son  Kenneth  Plummer  fatally  wounded  this  morning. 
Was  escaping  guardhouse.  Overstayed  furlough." 

John  folded  it  methodically.  Then  he  went  to  his 
wife  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  Grief  had  released  the 
pent-up  emotion  so  long  held  in  check  and  she  clung  to 
him  helplessly. 

"  Dearest,"  he  said  gently,  "  shall  we  go?  " 
"  Wire  that  I  will  come  —  wire  we  will  come,"  she 

366 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

corrected.     Then  she  sank  down  on  the  bed,  her  face 
buried  in  the  pillows. 

Shot  while  escaping  the  guardhouse  —  overstayed 
furlough  —  the  words  came  and  sat  about  her  pillows, 
they  were  formed  of  jagged  cruel  letters,  the  words 
danced  together  sometimes  in  an  incoherent  mass  and 
then  danced  back  and  separated  into  words  or  strung 
themselves  out  in  a  scraggly  line  or  circled  about  in  a 
whirl  of  tragic  confusion. 

She  wondered  if  John  would  make  all  arrangements 
for  them  to  go,  she  would  rather  remain  here  with  these 
word  phantoms  to  keep  impressing  on  her  what  had 
happened  —  she  would  rather  John  went  —  he  was  the 
boy's  father.  How  odd  that  she  should  suddenly  think 
of  him  as  being  strong  and  capable;  he  had  called  her 
"  dearest  " —  like  a  faint  rose-scented  echo  of  the  past  — 
and  had  asked  her  if  they  would  go.  The  words  were 
banding  about  her  like  mocking  little  devils,  they  fairly 
hissed  their  message.  Her  boy  was  dead.  Murdered! 
She  sat  upright  and  beat  her  hands  together  senselessly, 
escaping  the  guardhouse  —  her  boy  to  escape  punish- 
ment—  no,  worse  than  that  —  her  boy  to  deserve  pun- 
ishment! There  crept  into  her  consciousness  the  mem- 
ory of  Geraldine  Poole's  selfish  little  face  with  the  too 
closely  set  blue  eyes  and  the  heavy  scarlet  mouth.  Over- 
stayed his  time.  And  he  had  barely  said  good-by  to 
them.  So  that  was  the  trouble  —  why,  the  escaping? 
even  if  he  had  deserved  punishment,  to  try  to  evade  it. 
There  must  be  a  mistake;  surely  there  was  some  mis- 
take. 

John  returned,  he  tiptoed  clumsily  as  men  do  about 
a  sick  room. 

"  I  have  phoned  for  reservations  —  but  I  —  I  have 
no  money." 

36? 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

He  did  not  look  at  her. 

She  pointed  to  her  purse. 

"Will  you  go  alone,  John?  I  do  not  think  I  could 
bear  it.  I  want  to  be  here  when  he  comes  home  for  the 
last  time." 

Later  in  the  afternoon  she  knew  John  set  some  tea 
beside  her  and  asked  if  he  should  bathe  her  forehead 
with  cologne  as  he  had  done  years  and  years  ago.  She 
said  "  Yes,"  and  so  he  sat  dabbling  the  handkerchief 
over  the  pitiful,  quivering  features  and  whispering  to  be 
brave  —  it  was  God's  will.  Poor  John!  That  old, 
time-worn  phrase  of  Aunt  Sally's  was  all  he  could  find 
in  his  own  agony  of  mind  and  soul  to  offer  by  way  of 
comfort  —  God's  will! 

"  Have  you  told  Sally?  "  she  asked. 

He  nodded. 

"And  wired  Harriet?  " 

"  Yes.  Lie  still,  dearest  —  unless  you  drink  some 
tea." 

"  I  wonder,"  she  murmured,  her  eyes  glazed  and 
ominous,  "  I  wonder  if  he  suffered.  Do  you  think  he 
suffered,  John?"  She  grasped  his  hand  until  it  left  a 
reddish  mark. 

"  We  will  soon  know,  my  dear.  Lie  down  and  rest  — 
lie  down." 

"  It  was  that  girl  —  that  girl  who  killed  him."  She 
kept  repeating  this  in  a  shrill  tone.  "  She  has  murdered 
him." 

Then  she  began  to  laugh  and  say  it  was  all  for  the 
best,  the  trenches  were  so  much  worse,  the  letters  and 
diaries  which  had  come  overseas  told  of  such  horrors  — 
perhaps  it  was  for  the  best.  Did  John  understand  what 
she  was  telling  him?  The  agony  of  the  trenches  was 
spared  their  boy  —  but  he  had  been  murdered  by  a  para- 

368 
\ 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

site  —  a  rebel  doll!  She  had  made  him  overstay  his 
time.  Well,  it  was  for  the  best  —  hadn't  John  told  her 
it  was  God's  will  —  how  comforting  that  was,  after  all! 
God's  will!  Was  it  not  queer  that  she  seemed  to  see 
her  boy  as  a  little  fellow  in  kilts  —  plaid  kilts  and  a 
ruffled  white  blouse  and  a  black  velvet  cap  —  as  he  used 
to  be  when  he  tagged  after  her  or  tried  to  play  with  the 
girls  and  they  complained  of  his  being  too  much  of  a 
baby.  It  was  very  queer  that  Sally  did  not  come  to  her 
mother;  did  she  not  realize  that  her  only  brother  was 
murdered?  But  he  was  spared  the  agony  of  the 
trenches !  And  she  wanted  John  to  write  Dean  Ladd- 
barry,  because  Dean  had  always  loved  Kenneth,  everyone 
was  fond  of  him  and  so  everyone  would  be  glad  he  was 
spared  the  trenches.  He  had  said,  so  long  ago,  "  I 
am  going  to  be  a  captain,  mummy."  And  now  he  was 
dead!  He  was  standing  close  beside  her — -surely  John 
could  see  —  in  that  funny  boy  sweater  of  green  and  a 
bean  button  made  from  cigarette  flags,  and  he  was  asking 
in  his  changing  soprano-bass  voice  about  a  baseball  game 
and  what  were  the  chances  for  a  blueberry  pie!  Oh, 
yes,  it  was  for  the  best  —  she  wanted  Geraldine  to  know, 
she  wanted  to  see  if  she  had  really  cared  —  but  she 
would  skulk  like  a  guilty  coward.  And  yet,  her  boy  was 
spared  the  trenches. 

After  a  long  time  she  said  more  rationally,  "  If  he  had 
died  a  hero,  had  done  what  he  longed  to  do  —  it  — 
would  not  be  so  hard.  But  to  be  shot  escaping  the 
guardhouse  —  my  boy.  John,  something  tells  me  I 
must  learn  a  great  lesson  from  this  death.  That  if  he 
did  not  die  for  his  country  he  shall  not  die  in  vain.  I 
shall  take  to  myself  the  lesson,  whatever  it  may  be." 

After  John  left  for  the  night  train  Densie  lay  alone, 
staring  into  the  darkness  and  seeing  the  words  of  the 

369 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

telegram  dancing  about  in  irregular  confusion.  She 
wondered  why  her  daughter  did  not  come  to  share  her 
grief.  Then  she  was  roused  by  a  ring  of  the  doorbell. 

She  managed  to  answer  it,  thinking  it  was  Sally.  But 
it  was  a  bell  boy,  agog  with  curiosity,  holding  out  a  silly 
little  tray  with  a  silly  little  note. 

Densie  took  it  mechanically.  She  supposed  the  boy 
must  be  normal,  but  he  seemed  to  her  to  have  a  dozen 
grinning  mouths  and  a  dozen  pairs  of  coarse  black  eyes 
peering  rudely.  She  closed  the  door  and  went  back  to 
her  room  to  read  the  message.  It  was  from  Traynor, 
the  hotel  manager  —  a  suave  note  which  expressed  all 
manner  of  sympathy  and  condolence  to  Mrs.  Plummer, 
but  he  hoped  that  she  understood  the  rules  of  the  hotel 
and  that  she  would  not  ask  that  they  be  broken,  there 
were  no  funerals  permitted. 

No  funerals  from  the  hotel!  Of  course  not,  now 
that  she  thought  of  it.  Hotels  were  places  for  transients 
—  persons  who  desired  no  home.  Her  boy  could  not 
even  come  home  for  his  last  silent  farewell.  They  had 
no  home.  She  had,  step  by  step,  destroyed  it.  Was  that 
the  great  lesson  she  must  learn? 

Later  Densie  received  word  from  Harriet's  hotel  that 
Miss  Plummer  had  suffered  a  nervous  breakdown  and 
was  under  a  doctor's  care;  she  could  not  bear  the  journey. 

But  it  made  little  impression  on  Densie,  though  she 
began  to  realize  that  hotels  are  not  for  sick  persons 
either.  Only  homes  shelter  the  maimed,  the  young,  the 
helpless,  the  failures  —  and  welcome  their  own  dead! 
And  she  had  destroyed  her  home.  She  looked  about 
in  slow,  bewildered  fashion  as  if  she  were  a  stranger 
suddenly  ensconced  in  the  smart  hotel  rooms.  She  had 
no  home.  It  was  far  better  Harriet  did  not  come. 
And  Kenneth,  her  only  son,  must  lie  in  some  sleek  chapel 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

of  an  undertaker  —  as  do  the  unidentified  dead  to  whom 
the  papers  devote  an  obscure  paragraph.  No  home  — 
no  home !  But  he  was  spared  the  agony  of  the  trenches. 
Those  two  phrases  ran  a  race  in  her  tortured  mind,  first 
the  home  was  winning,  then  the  agony  of  the  trenches 
ran  beyond,  threatening  to  win;  then  no  home  dashed  up 
in  triumph;  then  the  other  —  and  so  on. 

She  tried  to  go  to  bed  and  rest  and  wonder  vaguely 
what  she  would  have  done  without  John  Plummer. 
John  had  no  home  either.  Oh,  they  had  strayed  far, 
far  from  the  cradle  of  civilization  —  the  home.  As  she 
lay,  dry-eyed  and  wide  awake  she  thought,  "  Is  the  agony 
of  the  trenches  worse  than  this?"  She  fancied  the 
newspaper  headlines:  "  Densie  Plummer's  Son  Shot  - 
Deserting  Guardhouse."  The  reporters  crowding  in  on 
her;  how  she  had  grown  to  want  them  to  crowd  about 
and  ask  for  interviews!  What  a  bomerang!  She 
could  see  the  flowers,  the  senseless,  overfragrant  blos- 
soms in  fantastic  shapes  of  pillows  and  stars 
and  anchors  and  what  not  that  would  smother  her 
boy's  casket  —  the  telegrams  and  telephones  and 
messages  of  condolence  from  the  world  at  large  - 
they  rose  like  mere  phantoms  and  joined  the 
mocking  words  of  the  telegram.  She  would  have 
to  pay  dearly  for  her  fame!  She  could  not  grieve 
alone  —  in  her  own  home  with  the  common,  sacred 
friends  of  her  common  sacred  life  to  help  her  through 
the  trial.  There  were  no  common  sacred  friends. 
They,  too,  had  left  her.  But  she  had  John.  No 
thought  of  the  senator  so  much  as  crossed  her  mind. 

Not  until  morning,  which  brought  with  it  a  graver, 
saner  grief,  did  Densie  remember  the  senator  and  wire 
him.  She  added,  "  Do  not  come  —  wait  until  you  hear 
from  me."  She  felt  it  sacrilege  to  have  this  strange 

371 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

man  of  romance  so  much  as  touch  her  hand  while  her 
dead  boy,  John  Plummer  s  son,  lay  above  the  ground  — 
even  though  it  be  in  some  public  chapel! 

She  gave  a  statement  to  the  reporters  in  a  stilted,  con- 
trolled fashion.  They  referred  to  it  as  "  Mrs.  Plum- 
mer's  wonderful  self-control  already  demonstrated  in 
her  battle  for  civic  rights,"  and  so  on. 

Then  she  sent  for  Geraldine  Poole.  She  waited  for 
her  coming  as  a  monarch  does  an  arch  traitor.  She 
wanted  to  hear  from  the  girl's  lips  the  forced  confession 
of  her  own  perfidy  and  to  call  her  the  name  she  deserved. 
She  had  cast  Sally  from  her  thoughts;  she  seemed  unim- 
portant, as  did  Harriet.  Only  that  long  telltale  box 
coming  in  the  baggage  car  and  Geraldine  Poole's  story 
mattered.  Oh  yes,  John  mattered;  she  wanted  him  to 
bathe  her  head  with  cologne  and  call  her  "  dearest  " 
again.  And  she  could  cry  like  a  woman  when  John  was 
near  her.  With  the  rest  of  the  world  she  was  the  for- 
mal person  of  affairs,  dry  eyes  and  strained  of  expres- 
sion. 

John  would  have  reached  there  by  now,  he  would  have 
heard  details,  be  preparing  to  bring  his  son  —  not  home, 
but  "  back  " —  that  was  the  best  they  could  say. 

But  only  Mrs.  Poole  appeared  to  face  Densie's  storm 
of  anger  and  reproach.  She  was  red-eyed  and  tremu- 
lous, very,  very  afraid  that  her  little  girl  had  run  off  to 
camp  and  some  unexplainable  tragedy  had  happened. 
Oh,  did  Mrs.  Plummer  think  that  Geraldine  was  safe 
and  unharmed? 

Without  warning  Geraldine  had  taken  a  train  Satur- 
day night  and  left  a  note  saying  she  would  spend  Sunday 
and  Monday  with  Kenneth  at  camp,  that  she  must  ex- 
plain something  to  him,  something  that  worried  her. 
Didn't  Mrs.  Plummer  realize  that  she  was  only  an 

372 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

impulsive  baby  thing  and  that  she  loved  Kenneth  better 
than  anyone  else  in  the  world?  Oh,  Mr.  Poole  was 
very  angry  to  think  Kenneth  had  so  great  an  influence 
over  his  only  child  that  she  would  run  away  like  a 
servant;  he  was  certain  Kenneth  had  arranged  the  trip 
and  had  coaxed  her  into  agreeing.  It  had  been  a  shame- 
ful thing  to  do,  as  if  he  just  hadn't  had  a  furlough  and 
monopolized  Geraldine  entirely!  At  any  rate  Ger- 
aldine  had  gone  to  Kenneth's  camp,  and  now  she  was 
beside  herself  with  anxiety  as  to  Geraldine's  safety. 

What  a  dreadful  thing  it  was  —  Geraldine  would 
never  recover  from  the  shock!  She  had  no  idea  it  was 
naughty  to  make  him  overstay  his  time  —  dear,  no,  Ger- 
aldine was  the  most  patriotic  little  person  in  the  world, 
always  begging  for  the  Red  Cross  and  crying  over  the 
war  films  in  the  movies  —  she  never  realized  that  it 
was  wrong  to  coax  her  fiance  to  stay  over  a  day  or  so  — 
military  life  was  terribly  strict,  wasn't  it? 

After  which  Mrs.  Poole  collapsed  and  thus  extricated 
herself  from  further  conversation.  It  was  all  a  trick 
and  cleverly  done,  because  she  did  not  dare  to  stand  up 
beside  this  injured  mother  and  try  her  feeble  arguments 
and  explanations. 

"  My  son  never  asked  her  to  visit  him  at  camp.  He 
would  have  insisted  on  a  chaperone.  If  there  was  a  mis- 
understanding it  was  of  Geraldine's  deliberate  making; 
and  in  some  fit  of  remorse  —  for  Kenneth  had  promised 
her  gold  beads,"  she  added  with  a  little  catch  in  her 
voice  — "  she  simply  lost  her  head  and  rushed  down 
there.  My  son  was  pledged  to  serve  his  country  first, 
not  your  daughter.  No  girl  who  has  a  man  overstay 
his  time  is  worthy  of  his  attention  or  respect.  It  is 
feminine  treason." 

But  Mrs.  Poole  was  in  the  throes  of  fainting  and  say- 

373 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ing  very  weakly,  "  He  was  of  age  —  and  had  a  mind  of 
his  own " 

To  which  Densie  paid  no  attention. 

"  She  coaxed  him  to  overstay  his  time  and  he  was  put 
in  the  guardhouse.  Undoubtedly  he  escaped  to  see  this 
mad  little  creature,  who  ran  down  there  to  bring  him 
to  his  death  —  he  was  infatuated  and  she  knew  it.  She 
took  advantage  of  his  sincerity." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Poole  had  fainted  in  entirety,  and 
there  was  nothing  but  a  foolish  contemptible  little  bundle 
to  be  carried  out  of  Densie's  apartment. 

The  truth  would  be  told  her  by  John;  he  alone  knew 
why  Kenneth  had  escaped  the  guardhouse. 

The  afternoon  papers  printed  everyone's  picture  who 
was  associated  with  the  family.  Geraldine's  was  in  a 
wreath  of  ivy  and  entitled  "  Grief-stricken  Little  Sweet- 
heart Who  Thoughtlessly  Caused  Kenneth  Plummer's 
Death."  And  Densie  was  represented  in  one  of  her 
evening  creations  as  "  Well-Known  and  Brilliant  Mother 
of  Slain  Youth." 

Sally's  picture  was  with  Rex,  taken  on  their  honey- 
moon, and  a  long  account  of  Harriet's  brilliant  statistical 
work  took  the  place  of  her  photograph.  At  the  end  of 
the  story  was  the  line,  "  John  Plummer  has  gone  to 
bring  back  the  body." 

Early  that  evening  Sally  came  to  her  mother.  She 
carried  heavily  packed  traveling  bags. 

"  I  could  not  come  before,"  she  said  briefly,  by  way  of 
explanation.  "  I  had  to  be  brave  enough  to  come  for 
all  time.  Now  I  have  decided.  Rex  is  away;  he  would 
have  been  with  you  at  the  outset  with  all  the  professional 
sympathy  in  the  world."  Her  lips  trembled  with  anger. 
"Mother  —  when  is  the  funeral?  And  where  is  it? 
May  I  come  home  to  stay?  " 

174 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  felt  as  if  she  were  being  flayed. 

"  Oh,  my  little  girl!  "  she  said,  holding  out  her  arms. 
"  Mummy  will  try  to  make  a  home  for  you  all  —  but  it 
will  be  too  late  for  Kenneth  I  " 


375 


XLI 

During  the  night  of  Sally's  return  Densie  and  she 
talked,  not  as  mother  and  daughter,  but  as  two  grief- 
stricken  women.  It  was  then  Sally  told  the  long  re- 
pressed truth,  the  reason  for  listlessness  and  hysteria 
and  oldness  of  face.  For  three  years  Rex  Humberstone 
had  found  a  quicker  way  of  making  a  fortune  than  play- 
ing stocks  or  gambling  with  someone  else's  money.  He 
was  in  the  employ  of  the  German  Government.  He  had 
been  organizing,  investigating,  spying,  reporting  —  pre- 
paratory to  America's  entrance  into  the  war.  Was  it 
any  wonder  she  was  old  of  heart  and  bitter  of  speech? 

She  had  schooled  herself  to  remain  silent  until 
America's  entrance  into  the  strife;  then  she  had  pro- 
tested, only  to  be  silenced  in  a  well-defined,  threatening 
manner.  She  had  understood  the  reason  for  the  sud- 
den marriage,  Rex's  romantic  wish  to  have  her  for  his 
wife,  his  affected  tenderness.  A  German  spy  is  safer 
with  an  American  wife,  and  a  thousand  times  safer  when 
his  mother-in-law  is  of  national  importance  and  her  name 
is  on  everyone's  lips  as  being  loyal  and  eager  for  America 
to  win.  Nothing  could  have  suited  him  more !  Densie, 
the  shabby  drudge,  the  slug  had  become  his  shield  and 
his  salvation.  So  he  had  promptly  married  Sally,  and 
disillusioned  her  as  to  his  motive  without  delay.  He 
had  counted,  and  rightly,  on  her  infatuation  for  him  to 
keep  his  secret. 

So  she  kept  silence.  As  Sally  came  to  this  part  of  the 
story  she  put  her  head  down  on  her  mother's  lap  as  she 
used  to  when  she  was  a  little  girl. 

376 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

'  Tell  me  everything."  Densie's  hand  stroked  the 
red-gold  curls. 

"  I  begged  him  to  stop ;  it  seemed  I  should  go  out  in 
the  street  and  cry  out  the  news  that  my  husband  was  in 
the  pay  of  the  German  Government  —  that  he  was  help- 
ing them  with  plans  to  .burn  munition  factories  and 
schoolhouses  and  public  buildings,  wreck  food  plants, 
destroy  farm  implements,  breed  cattle  epidemics,  poison 
horse  feed  —  oh,  I  cannot  enumerate  all  they  planned. 
And  in  case  of  America's  entrance  into  this  war  they 
would  rise  up  and  do  the  bidding  of  the  Hun.  And  Rex 
was  one  of  them,  working  without  a  breath  of  suspicion. 

"  Oh,  he  gave  so  liberally  to  the  Red  Cross,  and  pre- 
tended to  be  horrified  at  tales  of  Belgium  and  France  — 
and  these  easy-going,  good-natured  people  of  ours  be- 
lieved no  ill  of  him;  nor  do  they  of  countless  others 
within  their  gates.  Mummy,  the  Americans  do  not 
realize  that  all  about  them  are  spies,  spies,  spies!  Be- 
ware of  every  gentleman  who  is  making  his  money  with- 
out admitting  how  he  does  so.  The  shame  of  it  —  the 
horror  —  the  —  the  living  death  of  it  I  " 

"Yes,  Sally  — yes." 

"  When  Kenneth  came  to  say  he  had  enlisted  I  thought 
I  should  go  mad  unless  I  could  tell  the  truth.  I  hardly 
dared  look  at  him  lest  I  scream  out  the  thought  that  has 
crucified  me  since  the  day  I  married.  Those  presents 
Rex  gave  him,  bought  with  German  money;  these  clothes 
I  have  on,  the  food  I  eat,  the  roof  that  shelters  me! 
I  feel  like  a  leper  crying  out,  *  Unclean,  unclean !  '  And 
he  married  me  only  to  hide  behind  our  skirts  —  our 
loyal  American  selves,  who  would  never  be  questioned. 
Did  the  senator  never  suspect?" 

"  No,  Sally;  for  he  would  have  acted  if  he  had." 

"  No  one  suspects  yet  —  no  one  suspects  half  enough 

377 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

in  this  country.  But  I  shall  tell  them  all  I  know.  Do 
you  wonder  I  screamed  at  Kenneth  and  begged  him  to 
go  away  —  don't  you  understand?  I  saw  him  drown- 
ing in  midocean,  his  transport  in  ruins  about  him  and  his 
regiment,  my  husband  having  known  of  the  event,  per- 
haps, in  advance!  Do  you  understand  now?  And 
when  you  made  your  patriotic  speeches  they  only  shielded 
a  knave.  For  he  gloried  in  them  —  oh,  it's  such  a 
tangle,  such  a  terrible  tangle!  And  Ken  is  dead;  but 
he  is  really  dead,  and  living  deaths  are  worse.  Mummy, 
I  want  to  see  the  senator  and  tell  him  the  truth.  It  is 
not  too  late  to  stop  the  worst  of  what  Rex  could  do. 
Then  let  me  come  home  to  you  and  be  a  little  girl  — 
after  —  after  Ken  comes  home." 

That  undertaker's  chapel,  the  formal  unfeeling  ap- 
pointments, the  atmosphere  of  hurried  death  after  hur- 
ried death  of  him  or  her  who  had  no  home  —  only 
enough  money  to  escape  the  potter's  field.  Could  she 
bear  it? 

"  Yes,  Sally,  you  shall  come  home,"  she  knew  she 
said. 

"  I  want  to  keep  on  talking,  telling  it  over  and  over,  of 
how  he  threatened  me  and  laughed  at  me  and  said  you 
were  the  best  bodyguard  in  the  world.  He  had 
thousands  and  thousands  of  dollars  —  and  plans  of 
bridges  and  water  fronts  —  of  Canadian  bridges 

and Mummy,  don't  let  me  go  mad  before  I  have 

a  chance  to  tell !  " 

In  the  morning  John  came  to  his  wife  and  told  her 
their  boy  was  back.  Densie  had  been  right  in  her  sur- 
mise. Kenneth  had  been  sent  to  the  guardhouse  for 
over  Sunday.  Geraldine  Poole  had  arrived  Sunday 
morning  and  demanded  to  see  him.  She  sent  in  a  note 
begging  him  to  "  come  outside  just  for  a  few  moments!  " 

378 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

In  a  mad,  infatuated  second  the  boy  tried  to  make  an 
escape  —  for  just  a  few  moments  —  and  the  guard  had 
shot  at  him,  not  intending  to  hit.  But  the  bullet  pierced 
his  back  and  he  died  ten  minutes  later. 

Geraldine,  running  true  to  form,  collapsed.  John  had 
paid  no  further  attention  to  her  or  to  what  she  would 
do.  By  collapsing  the  Pooles  had  at  least  provided  an 
escape  from  being  present  at  the  funeral ! 

Densie  listened  with  a  quiet  sadness  that  alarmed  him. 
She  was  noticing  how  old  he  looked  in  the  morning  light 
and  how  many  lines  had  grown  across  his  forehead  and 
about  his  eyes.  A  new  light  of  understanding  had  come 
to  Densie.  Had  her  son  perished  heroically  in  battle 
she  could  have  borne  it  with  a  less  keen  anguish  and  a 
lesser  degree  of  understanding.  But  this  accidental, 
almost  ignominious  death,  unnecessary,  comically  tragic, 
drove  home  the  great  lesson.  Through  Sally's  con- 
fession Densie  was  made  to  see  that  the  glory  of  the 
war  was  not  for  her,  but  rather  the  common  lot.  Her 
campaigns  and  speeches  seemed  too  highly  keyed  and 
emotional  beside  the  realities  of  life.  Figuratively,  her 
family  turned  to  Densie  —  small  and  yet  efficient  woman 
of  the  old  school,  driven  by  modern  ridicule  and  hastiness 
of  censure  into  foreign  channels  —  and  said,  "Mother, 
what  shall  we  do?  " 

The  unemployed  husband,  Sally,  the  nerve-racked 
feminist,  the  unburied  boy  who  mutely  pleaded  to  lie  in 
his  own  home!  And  there  was  no  home.  Densie 
realized  that  once  more  she  must  provide  a  home,  that  a 
home  is  the  veritable  joy  of  creation.  No  matter  what 
else  may  change  or  be  counted  out  the  home  must  be 
kept  if  wars  are  to  be  won.  Without  homes  there  can 
be  no  sustained  achievement  or  ultimate  progress.  Den- 
sie had  been  tempted  by  the  modern  enemy  of  women  — 

379 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  home-destroying  spirit  —  and  she  had  yielded.  She 
should  have  withstood  the  enemy,  weathered  the  diffi- 
culties, the  stings  of  ridicule,  the  pricks  of  neglect  —  but 
kept  the  home.  It  was  a  sacred  duty  in  which  she  had 
temporarily  failed. 

She  understood  now  why  her  husband  had  ceased  to 
be  the  buoyant  handsome  man  and  become  discontented, 
sullen,  morose.  She  had  trespassed  on  his  territory, 
driven  him  from  it  —  into  nowhere.  That  man 
and  woman  can  never  be  equal  in  their  abilities 
and  duties  —  only  love  acts  as  the  great  leveler, 
causing  them  to  merge  into  one  viewpoint,  a 
partnership  of  the  man's  and  the  woman's  quali- 
fications and  activities.  Such  a  wonderful  thing 
is  true  marriage.  That  to  the  man  is  given  the 
power  of  intellect  and  the  talent  of  logic,  and  to  the 
woman  is  awarded  the  emotional  power  and  the  duty  of 
spiritual  influence  over  her  home  and  all  therein.  To- 
gether these  grow  into  ideals,  ideals  which  can  best  be 
cherished  and  preserved  in  the  home.  That  one  must 
be  careful  in  this  new  era  that  destruction  is  not  mis- 
named progression.  To  take  from  the  old  what  is  good, 
and  profit  by  the  new  —  but  to  keep  the  home  intact 
through  all  the  ages,  since  nothing  in  the  divine  plan 
has  been  more  essential  or  beautiful  or  holy. 

She  also  thought  there  should  be  a  book  written  about 
the  wives  and  mothers  —  and  sometimes  maiden  sisters 
and  aunts  —  of  all  successful  persons;  it  should  be  on 
vellum  and  hand  illumined,  as  enduring  as  the  sculptor's 
deathless  bronze.  That  the  only  art  which  has  been 
denied  the  laurel  wreath  is  the  art  of  the  home  maker. 
Was  it  for  the  home  maker  that  this  verse  was  written: 
"  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait  "  ? 

That  many  is  the  denied  or  strangled  talent  quietly  re- 

380 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

nounced  in  order  that  the  home  maker's  family  may 
live  according  to  the  best  in  themselves.  What  multi- 
tudes of  women  whose  lives  have  been  spent  in  being 
"  just  mother,"  who  have  longed  to  express  in  shining 
glorious  fashion  the  talent  latent  within  themselves  — 
and  yet  a  good  dinner  and  a  basket  of  mended  clothes 
have  been  their  only  rightful  medium!  Poet,  painter, 
statesman,  actor,  artist  —  lie  dormant  in  the  hearts  of 
these  prosaic  and  often  underestimated  home  makers. 
Yet  it  must  be  so.  Civilization  is  not  preserved  by 
scholars'  archives  or  senators'  laws  or  crimson  wars  or 
even  religious  revivals  —  but  by  the  home !  In  the 
home  the  scholar,  statesman,  soldier,  ecclesiastic  —  learn 
from  some  woman's  lips  the  golden  rules  of  the  world 
and  the  principles  of  life  eternal.  Except  as  the  world 
can  rely  on  the  home  to  rejoice  over  their  achievements, 
set  in  action  their  theories,  celebrate  their  victories  and 
weep  over  their  sorrows  there  would  be  no  scholars  or 
statesmen  or  warriors  or  priests.  As  the  financial  mag- 
nate of  a  metropolis  sits  alone,  often  unknown  by  name 
to  the  multitude,  in  some  dim  sound-proof  office  of  his 
own,  while  on  the  street  men  rush  in  mad  frenzy  to 
win  or  retrieve  a  fortune,  people  mob  a  small  broker's 
office  to  demand  the  truth  or  cry  or  laugh  as  the  case 
may  warrant  —  so  does  this  heart  of  finance,  this  un- 
ostentatious man,  stay  apart  yet  in  direct  and  vital  con- 
tact with  the  hum  and  happenings  of  commerce.  Such 
is  the  relationship  of  the  home  to  the  activities  of  the 
world.  It  is  far  more  than  an  emotional,  sentimental 
place  where  one's  weaknesses  are  condoned  and  one's 
virtues  magnified  —  it  is  the  soul  of  civilization.  And 
few  men  have  the  ability  to  be  home  makers. 

As  Densie  talked  to  her  husband  about  necessary  de- 
tail she  felt  as  if  she  were  a  stranger,  intruding  almost, 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

at  a  time  of  grave  personal  sorrow.  He  answered  her 
gently,  making  no  moan  or  complaint,  and  tried  to  plan 
ahead  so  she  need  not  be  disturbed. 

She  knew  that  she  told  him  about  Sally  and  his  face 
distorted  into  an  expression  of  hate  which  she  had  never 
seen,  but  all  he  said  was :  "  We  will  be  glad  to  have  our 
girl  again,  won't  we,  Densie?  " 

And  then  people  kept  trying  to  crowd  in  on  her,  and 
reporters  would  not  be  satisfied  until  they  had  peered  at 
her,  and  endless  sickishly  scented  flowers  kept  coming 
by  mistake  to  the  hotel  —  where  they  did  not  allow  fu- 
nerals. 

Finally  John  took  her  to  see  her  boy.  He  was 
ready  —  hateful  word !  She  walked  like  an  old,  old 
woman,  clinging  to  John's  steady  arm.  John  was  of 
use  again  for  a  little  moment;  it  lent  him  a  dignity. 

She  knew  the  undertakers  murmured  the  proper  thing 
and  that  they  cleared  the  chapel  of  the  curious,  that  she 
might  be  alone.  If  it  had  been  her  own  home  she  would 
have  been  alone  for  hours  with  her  boy.  Not  all  her 
success  or  cleverness  or  all  her  patriotic  rallying  for  her 
country  spared  her  the  loss  of  her  only  son. 

She  looked  down  at  his  white  handsome  face,  so  very 
white  and  handsome  —  at  the  hands  forever  folded  and 
the  flag  thrust  through  the  unwilling  fingers.  But  she 
did  not  cry.  In  the  agony  of  the  moment  she  began  to 
plan  again,  plan  as  Kenneth  would  have  helped  her 
plan. 

"  '  Out  of  the  wreck  rise  I,'  "  Densie  whispered  in- 
audibly.  She  must  recreate  a  home.  It  was  the 
younger  generation  who  clamored  for  the  market  place, 
and  those  of  the  past  era  for  a  home. 

She  realized  that  this  anaesthesia  of  bland  optimism 
must  cease  in  America,  the  attitude  that  things  are  all 

382 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

all  right  was  stifling  one's  ears  against  groans  or  clos- 
ing one's  eyes  to  avoid  sights  of  helpless  abuse.  Some 
things  were  and  always  have  been  all  wrong,  and  others 
have  had  the  record  of  all  right  down  the  ages,  and  it 
has  seemed  to  the  wisest  of  men  as  if  the  old  battle  be- 
tween right  and  wrong  must  ever  be  waged.  That  the 
generation  from  which  Densie  came  took  the  humbler  at- 
titude of  Thomas  a  Kempis  when  he  said,  "  All  our 
knowledge  is  with  a  little  darkness,"  and  lived  accord- 
ingly, whereas  the  present-day  generation  asserted,  "  I 
am  the  master  of  my  fate,"  and  proceeded  to  destroy, 
deny  or  defy  as  seemed  most  expedient  for  their  aims. 
Who  shall  say  which  is  right  and  which  is  wrong? 

That  the  older  era  learned  to  save,  to  work,  to  endure 
and  to  pray,  and  the  time  had  come  when  they  must 
teach  the  younger  generation  these  virtues  as  their  share 
in  winning  the  war  of  wars;  while  the  younger  era  had 
learned  to  invent,  achieve,  combat,  analyze  —  and  they 
must  share  with  the  older  generation  the  virtue  and  the 
glory  of  these  things.  That  this  war  of  wars  called  for 
the  best  of  the  old  and  the  new,  and  the  rejection  of  all 
else. 

The  time  had  come  when  to  deny  the  power  and  men- 
ace of  evil  and  glibly  assert,  "  All's  well  with  the  world  " 
was  as  thin  and  unreal  as  to  assert  there  was  but  one 
dimension.  That  there  was  and  is  a  real  power  of  evil 
inasmuch  as  there  is  a  power  of  good  —  else  the  Deity 
would  never  have  permitted  this  war  of  wars.  The 
world  must  align  itself  on  the  side  of  good,  or  God,  or 
whatever  name  pleased,  pledging  to  aid  the  Deity  in- 
stead of  uttering  beggars'  prayers  for  personal  blessings 
and  indulgences.  The  orthodox  have  too  long  treated 
their  prayers  as  a  series  of  letters  to  Santa  Claus,  over- 
flowing with  petty  demands  and  appeals.  In  practical 

383 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

and  in  spiritual  ways  must  those  who  are  for  the  cause 
of  right  sacrifice  for  their  Creator.  America's  spoils  in 
the  war  must  be  finer  spoils  than  colonies  or  trade  rights 
or  indemnities  —  she  must  win  the  attributes  for  all  time 
of  justice  and  idealism  —  justice  as  the  highest  fulfill- 
ment of  love,  since  only  love  can  be  just,  and  idealism, 
a  practical  demonstration  of  mysticism. 

Then  normal  grief  came  to  soften  the  agony  of  self- 
reproach.  She  clung  to  John  as  she  might  have  done 
during  their  first  married  years  had  one  of  their  children 
been  taken.  She  seemed  oblivious  of  all  else  —  Sally 
was  like  a  ghost  slipping  about. 

Densie  returned  from  the  chapel  and  went  to  her 
room.  She  took  the  picture  of  Kenneth  from  the  wall 
and  sat  dry  eyed  staring  at  it  until  John  came  and  gently 
took  it  away. 

The  next  day  was  the  funeral,  a  private  funeral  by 
Densie's  request,  but  the  curious  lined  the  way  to  the 
chapel  and  many  cars  followed  without  invitation  to  the 
cemetery.  Densie  could  not  remember  the  service,  she 
knew  someone  sang  and  someone  said  the  usual  things, 
and  that  the  casket  was  closed  and  she  was  told  by  John 
to  stay  close  beside  him  and  he  would  help  her  walk 
steadily.  She  did  not  even  think  of  the  senator.  As 
she  passed  out  she  wondered  for  the  first  time  if  he  had 
been  there. 

Returning  from  the  burying  ground  Densie  leaned 
heavily  against  her  husband.  He  thought  she  had 
fainted  and  beckoned  to  Sally  to  come  to  his  assistance. 
But  she  only  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder  to  say, 
"  You've  been  very  brave,  John." 

Somehow  all  her  thought  was  for  John. 


XLII 

That  same  night  John  left  to  bring  Harriet  from 
New  York.  Densie  had  said  he  ought  to  rest  —  she 
or  Sally  would  try  to  go. 

But  he  insisted :  "  I'll  go.  I  want  to,  Densie.  It's 
my  right,  you  know." 

They  were  sitting  in  Densie's  room  trying  not  to  give 
way  to  grief.  Sally  was  beside  her  mother,  her  hands 
clasped  tensely  in  her  lap.  Densie's  black  dress  made 
her  seem  even  more  slender,  and  her  eyes  were  so  clear 
and  bright  that  they  gave  warning  there  was  to  be  a  let 
up  of  the  tension.  John  paced  up  and  down  listening  to 
Densie's  instructions. 

"If  you  find  Harriet  too  ill  to  travel  do  not  leave  her 
alone,"  she  was  saying;  "  stay  with  her  at  the  hospital. 
I  shall  have  moved  from  here  —  somewhere  —  I  can't 
say  now,  of  course.  Sally  and  I  will  go  together.  And 
we  must  see  about  Rex,"  she  added  almost  in  an  under- 
tone. "  Besides,  there  are  other  things  to  see  to." 

She  meant  the  resignation  from  clubs  and  organiza- 
tions. 

"  Even  if  she  has  to  stay  weeks  in  the  hospital  it  is 
not  right  she  should  be  without  her  own  people." 
Densie  rose  and  went  to  her  desk  to  write  a  check. 
"Take  this,  John.  It  is  the  very  least  I  can  do  for 
her." 

Densie's  secretary  was  moving  noisily  about  outside. 
Telegrams  and  letters  of  sympathy  and  endless  callers 
were  still  arriving  in  confusion.  The  secretary  tapped 
at  the  door.  John  answered  it. 

385 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  It  is  Senator  Gleason,"  she  said  timidly,  wondering 
if  she  had  made  an  error  in  calling  Densie. 

John  turned  interrogatively  to  his  wife. 

"  We  will  see  him,"  she  said  in  answer. 

The  senator  was  disappointed  when  John  led  Densie 
into  the  room. 

"  I  am  more  shocked  and  grieved  than  I  can  express," 
he  began  simply.  "  The  injustice,  the  horror  of  it  — 
my  poor  friends !  " 

He,  too,  included  John  without  being  cognizant  of  the 
fact. 

Densie  sat  facing  him.  She  did  not  speak.  John  an- 
swered for  her. 

"Is  there  nothing  I  can  do  —  nothing?"  he  urged, 
his  gentle  face  lined  with  anxiety. 

"  Sally  must  tell  you  her  story,"  Densie  forced  herself 
to  say.  "  We  must  go  on  living,  even  if  we  long  to  tarry 
with  our  dead.  Sally  has  something  to  ask  of  you." 

She  glanced  at  John  and  he  went  to  call  her. 

The  senator  leaned  forward  eagerly.  "  Densie,  dear- 
est, poor  little  mother !  How  very  hard  for  you  —  how 
cruelly  unfair !  " 

Densie  raised  her  hand  in  protest. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  good-by,"  she  said  mechanically. 
"  I  cannot  keep  our  friendship  —  oh,  I  am  quite  my- 
self —  it  is  something  else,  something  very  different,  that 
has  made  me  change.  I  have  let  my  home  vanish.  Do 
you  realize  my  boy  lay  in  a  public  chapel;  my  girl  comes 
back  to  a  hotel;  Harriet  is  in  another  hotel  in  New  York? 
What  am  I  to  do  with  these  helpless  ones  of  my  own 
flesh  and  blood?  I  must  make  a  home  for  them  — 
just  be  Densie  Plummer  until  the  end  of  the  chapter." 

He  started  to  speak  but  she  stopped  him. 

"  I  cannot  share  your  dreams  of  sunset  or  Indian  sum- 

386 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

mer  or  boy  and  girl  playing;  that  is  not  for  me.  I  have 
my  children  and  my  dead  boy  as  a  reminder  of  my  duty. 
And  my  boy  loved  his  father.  No,  I  shall  not  listen 
any  more.  Find  some  lonely  woman  who  has  no  one  of 
her  own  to  claim  the  first  rights." 

Tears  came  to  her  relief.  It  was  good  to  cry,  to  have 
John  and  Sally  coming  slowly  down  the  hall.  She  did 
not  want  the  senator  to  soothe  her  tears,  to  prattle  of 
romance;  she  could  not  have  borne  it.  Let  Sally  tell 
him  about  Rex,  let  the  statesman  and  patriot  of  him, 
the  stranger,  better  side,  rise  to  deal  out  justice  and 
punishment.  Densie  wanted  to  be  alone  with  her  hus- 
band so  they  could  mourn  together  over  their  youngest 
born. 

After  John  left  on  the  night  train  for  New  York  a 
note  came  to  each  of  the  bereaved  women.  Densie's 
was  from  the  senator.  It  said  with  characteristic  senti- 
ment: 

My  Dearest:  You  have  chosen  bravely,  nobly.  I  shall  never 
intrude  again.  Count  me  as  your  greatest  friend;  think  of  me  if 
you  will. 

My  mind  is  still  in  a  daze  with  all  Sally  has  told  me,  with  the 
memory  of  your  dear  face,  the  thought  of  what  has  happened.  I 
shall  always  love  you,  Densie  Plummer  —  there,  have  I  made  you 
very  angry?  JIM. 

Sally's  was  a  night  message  from  Rex.  The  news- 
papers had  spread  the  reports  of  Kenneth's  death  —  as 
a  warning  to  other  young  and  unrealizing  volunteers  — 
and  he  had  read  it  in  the  morning  paper.  It  was  a 
hypocritical  message  of  sympathy  and  directions  to  order 
a  handsome  floral  piece.  He  would  be  home  Tuesday. 

Sally  turned  to  her  mother  with  outstretched  arms. 

"  I'm  afraid  of  him,"  she  whispered.  "  Will  they 
treat  him  as  he  deserves?  Will  they,  mummy?  " 

387. 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"Of  course!" 

Densie  banished  her  own  thoughts  —  the  cry  of  her 
child  had  come  to  mean  more  to  her  than  the  call  of  the 
people. 

"  There  is  someone  who  could  deal  with  him  as  he 
deserves  —  but  he  is  a  long,  long  ways  off,"  she  sobbed. 

"  Is  it  Dean?  "  Densie  asked  tenderly. 

The  red-gold  head  nodded. 

"  Write  Dean  what  has  happened  —  Dean  loved  our 
boy.  I  asked  your  father  to  write  him,  but  he  has 
forgotten." 


388 


XLIII 

The  first  truth  that  occurred  to  Densie  when  she  cast 
about  to  reconstruct  a  home  was  that  a  home  can  be 
nothing  but  sincere  —  as  the  human  eye  unconsciously 
sees  its  best  without  being  goaded  to  do  so  —  and  that 
the  sincerity  of  the  home  was  the  hidden  influence  per- 
vading it  and  making  it  so  precious.  Apartments  and 
hotels  are  not  dominated  by  similar  influences.  She 
smiled  as  she  recalled  the  days  when  she  so  envied  the 
purported  life  of  ease. 

She  had  set  to  work  as  bravely  to  rebuild  as  she  had 
to  destroy.  For  there  was  Harriet  to  be  brought  back; 
and  Sally,  who  was  liable  to  collapse  after  Rex's  arrest; 
and  her  own  tired,  faithful  John,  who  must  find  his  grip 
again.  It  was  no  time  to  waste  in  selfish  indolence  or 
retrospection.  She  grieved  as  she  worked  with  bleeding 
memories  of  the  boy  Kenneth  as  he  had  trotted  after  her 
during  that  first  moving,  the  disappointment  when  he 
could  not  keep  the  forlorn  puppy,  the  evenings  they  had 
spent  together.  Oh,  she  had  had  many  wonderful  years 
of  her  boy's  life,  she  must  try  to  think  only  of  that. 

Not  even  when  word  came  that  the  Pooles  were  leav- 
ing town,  a  hasty  retreat  from  Mrs.  Densie  Plummer's 
territory,  because  of  the  guilt  and  shame  which  their 
addlebrained  daughter  had  brought  upon  them,  did 
Densie  halt  in  her  plans  to  brood  over  the  past. 

Sally  stayed  in  seclusion  in  the  hotel  waiting  for  word 
from  the  senator  as  to  what  had  happened.  That  some- 
thing was  happening  was  evident  from  the  silence;  so 
Sally  waited,  wondering  as  to  the  outcome.  Rex  had  so 

389 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

impregnated  her  with  a  sense  of  his  power  and  ability 
that  she  sometimes  wondered  if  he  would  not  conquer 
his  enemies  as  he  had  conquered  her. 

Only  it  was  a  relief  to  have  told  mummy  and  to  have 
her  be  kindly  and  gentle  instead  of  rushing  off  here  and 
there,  preoccupied  and  irritated  if  aught  crossed  her 
pathway.  It  was  a  relief  to  let  grief  run  its  course  and 
not  to  plan  for  the  future  —  to  know  that  mummy  was 
taking  care  of  that. 

She  did  not  know  Densie  had  resigned  from  her  public 
interests  and  to  a  delegation  of  protesting  citizens  she 
had  said  quietly:  "  My  family  needs  a  home,  and  a  home 
must  have  a  home  maker  and  keeper,  one  whose  first 
and  last  interests  and  devotions  are  given  to  its  welfare. 
There  can  be  no  halfway.  As  the  stone-age  man  left 
his  woman  beside  the  cave  to  keep  the  fires  aglow  and 
thus  ward  off  wild  beasts,  so  the  man  of  to-day  and  the 
woman  of  business  —  for  there  must  be  women  solely 
of  careers  and  business  in  to-day's  scheme  of  things  — 
must  leave  in  their  dwelling  some  woman's  woman  who 
will  keep  the  fires  aglow  and  ward  off  modern  but  equally 
wild  beasts!  " 

To  which  she  would  hear  no  argument.  Puzzled  yet 
admiring  they  went  away  wondering  if  grief  had  driven 
her  to  this  extreme  stand  and  if  after  a  little  she  would 
not  relent  and  prepare  again  to  enter  public  life. 

But  Densie  dismissed  them  from  her  mind  as  she 
used  to  dismiss  her  family,  once  outside  their  doorway. 
She  had  a  great  and  wonderful  task,  mellowed  by  mem- 
ory, inspired  by  grief  and  rejuvenated  by  love.  She  set 
about  to  find  a  home,  for  she  wanted  Sally  to  leave  the 
hotel  as  soon  as  possible.  Densie  was  not  hypnotized  by 
Rex  Humberstone;  she  knew  the  fate  awaiting  him. 
And  she  could  not  bear  another  hotel  tragedy.  She 

390 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

must  have  a  place  for  Harriet,  a  quiet,  lovely  old  place 
instead  of  a  hospital  with  its  buzz  of  bells  and  odor  of 
anaesthetics. 

And  John  —  Densie  smiled  like  a  girl.  John  must 
come  into  his  own. 

So  Densie  hunted  for  a  house  outside  the  city  limits, 
for  the  Little  House  on  the  Hill  was  infested  by  foreign- 
ers who  believed  in  a  generous  allowance  of  boarders. 
She  declined  modern  bungalows,  hastily  constructed 
Queen  Anne  cottages  with  scraps  of  lawns  and  back 
yards  only  adequate  for  the  washerwoman.  Besides, 
the  income  of  the  Plummer  family  had  temporarily 
halted.  But  Densie  did  not  let  herself  consider  this. 
First  let  her  find  a  house  and  move  her  family  into  it  — 
then  the  income  would  take  care  of  itself. 

The  fourth  day  of  hunting  brought  her  to  a  shabby 
white  house  with  possibilities.  It  had  large  high-ceil- 
inged  rooms  with  fireplaces  in  most  of  them,  and  a 
square  entrance  hall  —  the  sort  that  needed  a  fur  rug 
and  a  painting  of  an  ancestor,  a  carved  walnut  table 
with  an  old  blue  bowl  crowded  with  pink  roses  and  white 
lilacs,  and  where,  upon  entering,  one  would  smell  the 
baking  of  fresh  bread  such  as  Ellen  Porch's  had  been 
or  of  roasting  meat,  and  where  one  would  see  hats  and 
coats  and  sweaters  in  profusion  on  the  clothes  tree. 
Densie  foresaw  all  this  in  her  imagination  as  she  stood 
in  the  empty,  dirty  doorway  and  listened  to  the  agent's 
glib  protestations  as  to  its  merits. 

The  bedrooms  were  deserving  of  their  name  —  north 
and  south  chambers  would  suit  them  well  —  and  if  the 
walls  were  tinted  with  glowing  shades  and  rosy  chintz- 
covered  chairs  and  tables  were  put  in,  Densie  could  see 
Harriet,  tired  of  mind  and  starved  of  heart,  lie  in  a 
comfortable  bed,  no  lumpy  hotel  affair,  and  watch  the 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

logs  crackle  in  her  fireplace,  and  look  outside  to  the 
sky  for  fresh  inspiration.  She  would  have  Sally's  room 
opposite  her  sister's;  these  two  must  come  together  in 
spirit  as  they  had  never  done  before.  She  would  tint 
Sally's  a  tender  blue  shade  with  turquoise  hangings  of 
cretonne  and  old-fashioned  pictures  hung  about  —  Sally 
liked  pictures  but  they  would  have  disturbed  Harriet. 
She  would  place  a  workstand  in  Sally's  room  and  relent- 
lessly pile  it  with  unmended  stockings.  She  must  teach 
her  big-little  girls  to  do  their  proper  tasks.  It  was 
like  making  grown  ups  play  properly  in  a  nursery. 
Densie  passed  out  of  Sally's  intended  room  to  view  the 
large  front  room  with  its  old-style  alcove  which  should 
be  hers  and  John's.  She  would  make  this  room  yellow, 
the  color  John  had  long  ago  preferred  —  with  blackeyed 
Susans  in  the  pattern  of  the  hangings  if  possible,  and 
sunshiny  braided  rugs  on  the  floors.  In  the  alcove 
should  be  the  table  with  its  plate  of  apples  and  knife, 
the  books  he  loved  best,  his  slippers  and  dressing  jacket; 
and  Densie  would  sit  across  from  him  after  "  the  chil- 
dren "  were  in  bed,  to  say,  "  Well,  John,  what  is  the 
news  to-day?  " 

How  good  it  seemed  —  how  worth  while.  The  same 
glow  of  proud  determination  which  she  experienced  when 
she  was  about  to  campaign  the  state  for  a  gigantic  enter- 
prise was  hers  as  she  signed  the  lease  for  the  old  white 
house.  She  lingered  downstairs  to  view  the  front  and 
back  parlors  —  and  a  long  side  room  —  a  "  study,"  the 
agent  said  it  was  designated.  Densie  did  not  assign  any 
use  to  this  room.  It  was  quite  enough  to  furnish  the 
parlors  mentally,  into  one  vast  yet  cosy  living  room, 
booky  and  just  disorderly  enough  to  make  one  feel  the 
right  to  use  every  sofa  pillow  or  to  sit  in  every  chair. 
The  dining  room  and  kitchen  were  dreary  and  cob- 

392 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

webby  from  their  long  idleness.  But  Densie  scarcely 
noticed  that.  She  realized  the  defects  of  the  place,  the 
broken  window  panes,  the  loose  shutters,  the  unattended 
lawn,  the  dislodged  chimney  bricks.  The  agent  would 
have  been  surprised  could  he  have  seen  the  house  as 
Densie  visualized  it  —  a  lovely  old  home,  newly  painted, 
with  smoke  curling  in  hospitable  invitation  from  the 
tall  chimneys,  the  lawn  as  velvety  as  The  Evergreens' 
had  once  been,  and  a  war  garden  planted  on  the  uncared- 
for  land.  There  was  a  dismal  chicken  house,  and  a  tiny 
stable  —  but  that  would  be  John's  domain.  She  must 
leave  something  for  him  to  do. 

She  went  back  to  the  hotel  to  tell  Sally. 

"  It's  going  to  be  our  home.  Aren't  you  glad? 
Don't  you  feel  stifled  in  here?  I  want  to  pack  our  bags 
and  leave  at  once." 

Sally  shook  her  head.  "  I  suppose  I  ought  to.  Only 
I  don't  feel,  mummy  —  that's  the  trouble.  I'm  just  a 
person  who  eats  and  sleeps  and  breathes  at  proper  in- 
tervals —  all  the  brain  and  heart  of  me  is  afraid  to  feel. 
It's  Rex  —  it's  what  is  going  to  happen!  " 

Densie  took  off  her  hat  and  coat. 

"  We  cannot  foresee  what  will  happen,  only  that  he 
shall  never  bother  you  again !  " 

She  picked  up  a  letter,  which  was  waiting  for  her 
from  John.  It  was  brief  and  she  was  disappointed  to 
find  no  tender  message  for  herself,  though  she  had  no 
'  right  to  expect  one. 

Dear  Densie:     Harriet  is  in  a  sanitarium  on Street.     She 

seems  in  bad  condition.  We  hope  to  come  home  in  three  weeks  or 
a  month.  Love,  JOHN. 

Three  weeks  or  a  month!  She  must  work  wonders 
in  that  time  —  but  what  a  glorious  task  she  had  set 

393 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

herself.  She  began  planning  how  much  the  sale  of  the 
present  furniture  would  bring,  for  she  would  have  none 
of  it  in  the  new  house.  She  wanted  sensible  modern 
things  —  Densie  was  not  so  visionary  that  she  could 
not  see  the  value  of  a  vacuum  cleaner  and  electricity^ 
plain  furniture  with  none  of  the  dust-catching  carvings 
of  the  old  style,  wicker  things  of  simple  line  and  comfort 

Coming  in  that  same  night,  after  long  sessions  with 
painters,  electricians,  furniture  men  and  scrubwomen, 
Densie  found  Sally  waiting  for  her  eagerly. 

"  It  is  ended,"  she  said,  coming  to  lay  her  head  on 
Densie's  shoulder.  "  It  was  done  quietly.  They  took 
Rex,  but  he  killed  himself  rather  than  face  the  conse- 
quences. I  might  have  known  that  he  would." 

She  held  out  the  senator's  letter  corroborating  what 
she  had  said.  They  were  holding  the  body  until  Sally 
gave  instructions. 

"Well?" 

Densie  wondered  if  the  old  infatuation  would  demand 
a  sentimental  mourning  over  a  traitor's  body  as  its  last 
toll. 

"  I  never  wish  to  hear  his  name  again,"  she  answered 
without  hesitation.  "  I  ha^ve  wired  them  to  that  effect." 

Densie  kissed  her. 

"  Come,  you  and  father  and  Harriet  and  I  shall  be 
brave  and  work  and  drive  away  neurotic  grief  and  memo- 
ries. You  and  I  must  settle  our  new  home,  Sally. 
Won't  that  be  wonderful?  And  then  we  must  work  and 
we  must  save.  Our  country  has  never  needed  men  and 
women,  individually  and  collectively,  to  save  and  con- 
serve without  hesitation  and  without  constant  urging,  as 
much  as  it  does  now.  No  one  of  us  but  what  can  do  his 
part." 

Sally  drew  away.  It  was  a  shock,  this  brisk,  practical 

394 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

manner  of  speaking,  following  on  the  heels  of  Rex's  sui- 
cide. Sally  had  become  used  to  lying  in  bed  and  making 
a  feeble  little  wail  to  her  feeble  little  conception  of  God 
that  her  life  was  wrecked  —  she  wanted  to  remain  pas- 
sive and  injured,  hiding  indefinitely  from  the  sunlight 
and  her  fellow  creatures.  But  Densie  would  not  have 
it  so.  She  would  force  her  into  the  sunlight  to  bring  her 
to  her  senses. 


395 


XLIV 

A  month  later,  while  the  state  still  talked  of  Mrs. 
Densie  Plummer's  remarkable  change  of  residence  and 
withdrawal  from  public  affairs,  Sally  and  her  mother 
sat,  one  at  the  bottom  of  the  broad  front  stairs  and  one 
at  the  top,  both  engulfed  in  checked-gingham  aprons. 

"  I  think  I  shall  sleep  to-night,"  Sally  said,  glancing 
up  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  at  her  small  but  imperious 
mummy.  "  Every  bone  of  me  aches  —  and  look  at  all 
there  is  to  be  done  I  " 

"  But  it's  fine  that  there  are  things  to  be  done  and  that 
we  can  do  them." 

Densie's  voice  quivered;  all  during  the  day's  tasks  of 
superintending,  planning,  working  —  she  had  been  think- 
ing of  where  she  had  best  hang  Kenneth's  picture. 
Should  she  selfishly  keep  it  for  her  own  room  or  place  it 
between  the  windows  of  the  living  room  where  all  could 
share  alike?  • 

"  Well,  if  I  do  say  so  —  we've  done  a  jolly  lot." 

Sally  looked  about  in  pleased  contemplation. 

"  Sh-h,  don't  waste  another  daylight  moment.  We 
only  have  two  more  days  to  finish  it  up." 

Densie  sprang  up  briskly  and  ran  down  the  stairs. 

"  How  can  you  ?  Why,  mummy,  an  hour's  work  tires 
me  all  out." 

"  Because  you've  never  gotten  into  the  way  of  doing 
things,"  her  mother  told  her.  "  At  my  age  I'm  able  to 
do  twice  as  much  as  you." 

"  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter  with  this  modern 

396 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

way  of  living?     We're  not  taught  rightly  or  else  we  won't 
be  taught  or  something  tangles  us  up." 

"  I  think  " —  Densie  gravely  pointed  the  tack  ham- 
mer at  her  daughter — "  that  the  great  error  in  this  age 
is  to  have  us  learn  the  exceptions  first  and  the  rules  after- 
ward. That  is  why,  at  thirty-one,  Sally,  you  cannot  mop 
a  floor  without  having  a  backache;  and  why  the  prepa- 
ration of  a  simple  meal  covers  you  with  confusion  — 
and  the  house  with  burning  and  strange  odors !  " 

Two  days  later  a  cab  stopped  before  the  new-old 
house,  still  glistening  with  fresh  paint,  with  a  repaired 
pathway  in  winding  invitation  to  come  up  the  steps  and 
find  the  polished  brass  knocker.  The  knocker  had  been 
almost  the  last  thing  Densie  had  done,  the  house  needed 
just  such  a  lion's  head  with  the  heavy  ring  between  its 
jaws. 

Crisp  dotted  curtains  were  at  the  shining  window  panes 
and  smoke  curled  from  the  chimney  just  as  she  had 
planned.  Outside  an  old  man  raked  up  the  leaves  and 
sticks,  mowing  the  tall  grass  with  a  huge  cutter.  John 
found  himself  so  interested  in  the  procedure  that  he 
forgot  to  gather  all  the  cushions  until  Harriet  feebly 
reminded  him  of  it. 

They  came  up  the  walk  slowly,  the  oldish  woman,  so 
thin  and  unsteady,  and  the  tired-faced  man.  Densie  and 
Sally  flung  open  the  door  in  welcome.  The  odor  of 
fresh  bread  and  tea  roses  —  saintly  combination  —  per- 
vaded the  hall.  The  sunset  cast  a  kindly  glow  on  their 
faces,  but  it  did  not  deceive  Densie. 

"  Oh,  my  dears !  "  she  said,  holding  out  her  arms  while 
Sally  bustled  about  with  the  wraps. 

Harriet  sank  down  on  the  nearest  chair. 

"Please  let  me  go  to  bed.  But  isn't  it  nice  here? 
So  very  homey." 

397 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

At  which   Densie  was  satisfied. 

"  I  leave  Sally  to  take  charge  of  you,  Harriet.  We'll 
send  supper  up  presently.  I  must  see  to  things  below. 
John,  will  you  look  at  the  Little  House  or  will  you  go 
upstairs  first?  " 

She  was  as  nervous  as  a  bride  as  she  waited  for  his 
answer,  fingering  the  bows  of  her  white  apron  and  try- 
ing not  to  laugh  and  cry  all  at  once. 

"  I'll  see  the  Little  House.  You  don't  mean  to  say 
you've  been  baking?  Well,  well!  "  His  voice  was 
fairly  eager. 

She  nodded  and  led  the  way  while  Sally  and  Harriet 
slowly  toiled  up  the  stairs.  It  was  all  simple  —  Densie's 
purse  did  not  allow  of  extravagances  as  it  once  had. 
Plain  harmonious  rugs  and  hangings  of  wood  brown 
and  dull  green,  sturdy  furniture  and  vases  of  flowers 
here  and  there,  a  little  piano  with  song  books  once  more 
astride  the  rack.  Between  the  windows  of  the  living 
room  Densie  paused,  slipping  her  arm  through  John's. 
In  understanding  silence  they  looked  up  at  the  picture  of 
their  boy  as  they  had  last  known  him,  in  his  uniform, 
young  and  very,  very  much  in  earnest  and  filled  with 
promise.  The  eyes  were  not  looking  down  at  them, 
but  out  at  the  worlds  he  was  prepared  to  conquer. 

Finally  John  said,  "  Did  he  make  you  do  all  this  — 
this  miracle?  " 

She  nodded.  "  We've  a  home  again.  It  may  help 
just  a  little." 

Then  she  led  him  all  about  the  rooms.  There  were 
touches  here  and  there  of  the  sacred  past  which  made 
his  fingers  press  her  tenderly  or  made  him  give  some 
brief,  deeply  felt  comment  which  more  than  rewarded 
her  efforts. 

'  You've  not  lost  the  art  —  not  after  all  these  years." 

398 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

He  put  his  arms  round  her.  She  was  hungry  to  have 
him  draw  her  close  and  kiss  her  again. 

"  I  thought  I  wanted  to  lose  the  art,  but  now  I  see  the 
mistake  of  such  a  wish,  the  gradual  growth  of  a  mis- 
understanding. We  were  all  to  blame.  Only  I  as  the 
mother  had  no  right  to  destroy  something  unless  I  had 
something  of  equal  merit  to  take  its  place.  There  is 
nothing  which  takes  the  place  of  a  home,  is  there,  John  ? 
At  this  time  of  stress  our  country  needs  to  guard  the 
home  even  as  it  guards  the  coast  line.  Without  our 
homes  our  nation  has  no  foundation,  nothing  for  which 
to  fight.  We  modern  women  have  tried  to  make  the 
world  institutional,  that  we  be  relieved  of  the  pettiness 
of  detail,  the  blessedness  of  drudgery  —  but  it  must  not 
be  done.  Look  at  our  girls  upstairs!  Our  boy,  per- 
haps, had  he  had  a  home  —  well,  things  might  not  have 
happened  as  they  did." 

It  was  Densie's  turn  to  break  down  and  John's  to 
comfort. 

"  Ah,  but  it  was  I  who  was  wrong,"  he  admitted.  "  I 
shirked  first  of  all  —  I  did  not  appreciate,  I  became  so 
accustomed  to  comfort  and  sacrifice.  I  see  the  thing 
now  as  if  it  had  happened  to  some  other  couple  besides 
you  and  me.  I  think  it  often  does  happen,  don't  you? 
But  I  was  wrong " 

"  It  often  takes  courage  to  say  * 1  am  right,'  "  she 
said,  looking  up  with  very  violety  eyes,  "  but  it  requires 
divine  humility  to  say  '  I  was  wrong.'  Kiss  me,  John, 
and  bless  our  home  —  we  will  keep  it  now  until  we  arc 
too  old  to  know  the  difference  between  our  home  —  and 
someone  else's.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  built  a  fortress  about 
our  grown-up  children  —  as  if  I  could  fight  all  the  world 
before  they  would  be  perverted  in  their  viewpoints 
again." 

399 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  Harriet  is  quite  ill,"  John  said  gently  as  they  went 
into  the  kitchen.  "  The  doctor  says  it  is  brain  fag  —  a 
new  interest  or  set  of  interests  might  cure  her.  I  won- 
dered all  the  way  on  the  train  what  sort  of  new  house 
you  would  have  for  us,  Densie  —  some  awful,  modern 
establishment  where  one's  only  intimate  friend  is  the 
dumb-waiter.  I  did  not  speak  of  this  to  Harriet;  in 
fact  I  scarcely  spoke  to  her  at  all.  She  wants  to  be  let 
alone  and  she  cries  if  you  ask  her  questions." 

Densie  nodded  wisely. 

"  I'll  make  broths  that  will  give  her  spirit  and  cus- 
tards that  will  make  her  talk  in  order  to  beg  for  more  — 
and  she  shall  have  new  interests.  John  Plummer,  I, 
Densie,  do  solemnly  vow  that  my  daughters  shall  learn 
to  keep  house  until  they  are  self-sufficient.  They  are 
both  within  our  power  again."  She  laughed  a  little 
sadly.  "  Three  grown  women  and  one  small  house  — 
no  need  of  taking  a  girl  from  a  munitions  factory  to  come 
and  half  cook  our  meals.  You  shall  be  Lord  Mayor  of 
the  Barnyard  —  that  I  leave  in  your  hands." 

"What  a  jolly  old  kitchen!  It  reminds  me  of  Aunt 
Sally's  very  own.  Remember  how  we  had  cocoa  and 
toast  Sunday  nights  for  tea?  The  greatest  treat  of  the 
week  was  to  eat  in  the  kitchen !  What  an  oven !  " 

"  What  a  turkey  it  can  roast  —  we're  going  to  have  a 
real  home  Christmas,"  Densie  said  gaily  as  she  went 
about  preparing  Harriet's  tray. 

She  remembered  the  last  few  Christmases,  with  Sally 
and  Rex  exchanging  loveless  handsome  gifts  for  show, 
Kenneth  off  for  a  dance,  Harriet  writing  home  briefly, 
and  John  aimlessly  wandering  into  a  movie  for  the  even- 
ing. As  for  herself,  her  day  had  been  crowded  with 
floral  offerings  and  visits  to  orphanages  to  distribute 

400 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

mittens  and  a  pygmy  orange  apiece,  and  end  by  a  club 
banquet  at  which  she  was  called  upon  for  the  most  im- 
portant speech.  No,  there  should  never  again  be  such 
holidays. 

''  Why,  Densie,"  John  was  calling  to  her,  "  here's  a 
woodshed!  " 

"  Certainly!     Where  would  our  logs  be  kept?" 

She  added  a  spotless  napkin  for  the  tray,  and  then 
rang  the  bell,  signal  for  Sally. 

Sally  came  rushing  down.  "  Harriet  doesn't  want 
any  supper.  She  is  crying,  and  I  can't  get  her  to  do 
anything." 

Sally  had  forgotten  her  own  woes. 

Densie  shouldered  the  tray. 

"  See  that  the  meat  doesn't  burn,"  she  warned  as  she 
marched  out  of  the  door. 

She  found  Harriet  in  a  disconsolate  little  heap,  weep- 
ing silently  and  refusing  to  answer. 

"  I  know  you  are  weak  and  tired  and  confused," 
Densie  said  patiently,  "  but  so  could  we  all  be.  Rex  has 
committed  suicide  —  he  was  a  German  spy  —  and  yet 
Sally  has  managed  to  keep  about  and  be  brave." 

Harriet  started  up.  "  Mummy,  how  terrible !  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me?  Oh,  poor  Sally?  What  a  dis- 
grace !  " 

"  No;  a  merciful  removal.  Rex  had  been  in  the  em- 
ploy of  the  Huns  for  three  years.  Can  you  fancy  that? 
All  his  money  came  from  our  enemy.  Sally  knew  it, 
was  afraid  to  speak  out  —  fears  and  infatuation  kept 
her  silent.  There,  sit  here,  Harriet.  Here's  a  nice  pillow 
for  your  back  —  and  as  you  drink  your  broth  I'll  tell  you 
just  how  Sally  came  to  tell  me." 

Deftly    Densie    managed   the   change.     Harriet,   her 

401 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

dark  eyes  twice  their  natural  size,  obeyed  like  a  child, 
eager  for  the  news.  It  had  given  her  something  else  to 
think  about. 

;<  Why,  I  didn't  know  Sally  could  be  so  game.  She 
was  as  cheerful  as  a  bird  —  it  made  me  terribly 
nervous  —  but  I  can't  help  but  admire  the  way  she 
acted." 

"  Well,  Sally  has  washed  all  the  woodwork  in  this 
house  and  helped  me  buy  and  put  away  every  pan  and 
dish,  and  she  settled  your  room  and  her  own  and  did 
any  number  of  odd  jobs,  such  as  persuading  the  painter 
that  speed  was  advisable  and  flattering  the  electrician 
into  finishing  his  contract.  Sally  hasn't  had  any  time 
to  favor  her  nerves." 

Harriet  drained  her  cup.  "  How  good  that  is !  It  is 
like  the  barley  broth  you  made  for  us  when  we  had 
sore  throats  and  it  hurt  to  swallow.  It  hurts  to  swallow 
now  —  but  the  lump  is  from  unshed  tears,  I  think." 

She  was  surprised  and  ashamed  at  herself  for  the  con- 
fession. 

Densie  passed  her  the  custard. 

"  Then,  too,  we  have  much  to  plan  ahead.  Your 
father  has  no  work;  neither  have  you.  You  cannot  go 
back  to  New  York  for  a  year,  as  you  well  know.  Don't 
worry,  Harriet,  it  will  be  all  right  —  only  we  must  plan. 
Here  is  Sally  to  consider  too.  And  so  we  have  done  a 
lot  of  thinking  while  we  scrubbed  and  dusted  and  bought 
and  arranged  —  and  that  is  the  finest,  most  efficient  way 
in  the  world  to  think  and  plan  —  to  work  as  you  do 
so." 

"  But  what  will  you  do,  mummy?  About  your  work 
and  your  clubs?  " 

"  I  have  resigned.  I  must  look  after  my  family  again. 
Now  finish  that  up  like  a  good  child  and  go  to  sleep. 

402 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

I'll  tuck  you  into  bed.     Isn't  the  fire  pretty?     It  is  good 
to  have  a  wood  fire  again,  isn't  it?  " 

"Is  there  a  furnace?"  Harriet  asked  rather  unap- 
preciatively. 

'  Yes,  but  logs  give  a  special  joy  all  their  own.  Now 
then  —  into  bed  you  go,  just  as  if  I  were  a  trained 
nurse.  I  warrant  you  never  gave  them  battle.  I  must 
go  below  and  see  to  our  dinner.  Are  you  all  right? 
Good  night,  my  dear." 

And  without  asking  she  stooped  to  kiss  the  pale  tired 
forehead. 

She  hurried  off  lest  Harriet  catch  sight  of  her  own 
tears.  It  seemed  so  cruel  and  so  unreal  that  this  was 
Harriet  —  this  wreck  of  nerves  and  mass  of  phobias  and 
indifference  to  everything  save  her  own  morbid  fears. 

Below,  Sally  and  her  father  were  conducting  the 
ceremonies. as  best  they  could,  but  making  clumsy  work 
of  it.  Densie  set  them  to  rights.  It  was  easy  to  re- 
member Aunt  Sally's  teachings,  to  step  back  so  many 
years  to  when  she  was  fresh  from  her  training  as  to  how 
to  get  a  meal  the  quickest  and  daintiest  way. 

When  they  sat  at  the  table  Densie  lifted  her  small 
hand  in  interruption  of  the  carving.  She  bowed  her 
head  and  said  swiftly:  "We  thank  Thee,  O  Lord,  for 
this  food.  Praise  and  bless  it  to  our  use." 

Late  that  night  —  with  Sally  fast  asleep  dreaming  of 
Jishwashing  and  the  strange  new  home,  her  own  blue 
room,  and  Harriet  across  the  way,  and  of  Dean  Ladd- 
barry's  coming  to  her  and  saying,  "  Sally,  he  is  dead,  he 
is  dead."  Densie  lingered  downstairs  after  John  had 
gone  to  his  room. 

There  were  a  few  of  the  little  fussy  things  to  do,  the 
same  indefinable  tasks  that  had  once  irritated  everyone. 
She  did  them  gladly  now,  thinking  —  because  John  had 

403 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

suggested  it  by  saying  his  glasses  needed  changing  — 
that  as  old  age  was  far-sighted  in  the  physical  sense  it  was 
because  old  age  was  one  of  retrospection  and  summariz- 
ing, away  from  the  thick  of  things,  whereas  youth  was 
near-sighted,  in  the  heat  of  the  fray  and  undependable  as 
to  its  deduction.  Hence  the  old  and  much  protested 
against  advice,  "Heed  your  elders!" 

The  autumn  wind  had  risen  to  howl  about  the  house 
and  impress  those  within  with  a  sense  of  warmth  and 
security.  Densie  listened  to  it  with  a  defiant  joy.  She 
did  not  care  how  loud  it  whistled,  how  cold  the  night  — 
once  more  she  had  her  family  underneath  her  own  roof. 

John  had  properly  banked  the  furnace.  She  looked 
about  to  see  if  there  were  any  other  odd  chores.  She 
was  quite  tired  —  but  with  a  blessed  tiredness  of  both 
body  and  mind,  which  made  her  sleep  without  dreams 
and  waken  refreshed. 

She  fancied  she  heard  a  scratching  at  the  door  —  it 
might  have  been  the  wind.  But  she  opened  it  to  verify 
her  idea.  On  the  doorstep  crouched  a  half-grown  non- 
descript dog  —  mostly  just  dog,  as  Kenneth  used  to 
say  —  his  eyes  peering  eagerly  into  the  warm  lighted 
hall. 

Unconsciously  Densie  opened  the  door  wider  that  he 
might  creep  in.  He  lay  submissively  on  the  hall  mat, 
not  knowing  whether  a  blow  was  to  be  his  reward.  He 
had  come  a  long  ways  —  and  was  unwelcomed,  judging 
from  the  gaunt  ribs  and  quivering  body,  the  muddied 
paws,  one  of  which  was  wounded,  and  the  bedraggled 
coat  of  black.  He  looked  at  Densie  in  mute  supplica- 
tion. 

"Don't  you  need  me?"  he  seemed  to  ask.  "You 
can't  have  a  home  without  a  real  dog  —  like  your  boy 
used  to  tell  you!  I'm  nobody,  but  I've  possibilities  too. 

404 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Try  me  —  for  his  sake.  I'll  frighten  off  tramps  and 
I'll  not  chew  up  master's  gloves  or  bark  when  Miss 
Harriet  is  napping.  I'll  amuse  Miss  Sally  —  if  she  were 
awake  she'd  speak  a  good  word  for  me.  I'm  nobody, 
but  like  the  rest  of  us  forlornities  I'd  be  quite  a  person 
if  I  only  had  a  home !  " 

He  whined,  dragging  himself  over  to  her  feet. 

Densie  was  thinking  of  the  day  Kenneth  brought  in 
the  puppy  and  begged,  "  He's  nobody,  he  was  just  born 
in  Skinner's  back  yard  —  but  if  I  don't  keep  him  he'll  be 
drowned!  " 

He  seemed  to  say,  "  I  escaped  drowning  twice  —  I've 
been  stoned  and  chased  and  beaten  —  I've  better  blood 
in  me  than  you  think.  Let  me  prove  it.  I  ran  away 
from  the  crowded  streets  to  find  a  home." 

Densie  knelt  and  patted  the  black  head.  "  We'll  call 
you  Captain,"  she  said.  "  Come  get  your  supper  1  " 


405 


XLV 

Harriet  followed  her  mother  about  the  house  as  if 
she  were  a  guest  who  was  trying  to  be  polite  in  not  in- 
terfering with  routine  duties  and  yet  not  lose  a  moment's 
opportunity  to  visit.  She  watched  the  brisk  methods  of 
cleaning  this  or  that  with  admiring  eyes. 

"You  have  not  lost  the  art,  have  you?"  she  asked 
when  they  finally  rested  in  the  living  room,  Densie  knit- 
ting a  huge  gray  soldier  sock. 

Outside,  the  clear  November  sun  —  Indian  summer, 
Densie  remembered  with  a  twinge  of  regret  —  shone 
on  Sally's  bare  head  as  she  and  her  father  walked  about 
the  place  pointing  out  where  next  summer's  garden  would 
be  planted  and  where  was  the  best  spot  for  flowers. 
Captain  tagged  after  them,  his  stump  of  a  tail  wag- 
ging whenever  they  paused  and  his  muzzle  pushing  itself 
into  Sally's  hand  to  remind  her  of  his  presence. 

u  I  presume  one  never  loses  anything  that  has  been 
really  learned." 

Densie  beheld  proudly  the  change  the  few  weeks  had 
wrought  in  her  eldest  child.  The  face  had  softened;  it 
was  not  robust  as  yet,  but  the  eyes  really  smiled  as  well 
as  the  lips,  and  there  was  a  gentle  note  in  Harriet's 
abrupt  voice.  The  wrapper  of  lavender  wool  suited  her 
well,  she  did  not  seem  the  former  Harriet  Plummer, 
chief  statistician  of  a  social-service  bureau. 

"  Yes,  I'm  afraid  you  do,"  she  told  her  mother. 
"  I'm  afraid  I've  lost  the  good  of  everything  I  ever 
learned  or  investigated.  I  can  never  go  back  to  doing 
the  same  sort  of  work.  When  I  try  to  school  myself  to 

406 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  idea  I  begin  to  feel  weak  and  trembly  and  I  want  to 
cry.  What  a  waste  it  has  been,  mummy,  hasn't  it? 
All  the  years  of  being  away  from  home !  " 

"Perhaps  it  has  not  been  wasted;  reserve  your  de- 
cision. The  same  ability  may  not  appear  in  the  same 
form,  but  it  has  not  vanished  forever.  There  is  other 
work  besides  the  work  of  a  machine.  You  kept  that 
brain  of  yours  overworked  and  you  starved  your 
heart  —  the  combination  can  never  be  successful.  Your 
nerves  were  called  upon  to  pay  the  price." 

Harriet  looked  about  the  living  room. 

"  It's  so  good  to  have  a  home.  I  thought  once  I 
despised  a  home  —  that  was  when  I  was  so  young  that 
I  must  have  been  impossible.  But  now  I  never  want  to 
leave  one.  It  is  the  mutton  barley  broth,  perhaps  " — 
she  tried  to  speak  lightly — "and  the  custards  —  and 
the  seeing  you  renounce  everything  for  which  you  had 
worked,  and  just  become  our  mother." 

Densie  glanced  up  at  Kenneth's  picture.  Harriet  did 
not  notice. 

"  Tell  me,  mummy,  was  it  hard  to  do?  " 

"  Hard  things  are  good  for  us,"  Densie  evaded,  drop- 
ping her  knitting.  "  If  I  had  not  had  the  experience  of 
home  making  I  could  never  have  had  the  success  of  a 
career.  It  was  the  rugged,  endless  tasks  confronting  me 
in  my  home  that  made  me  able  to  cope  with  outside 
duties.  But  I  was  wrong,  quite  wrong." 

"  It  seems  wonderful  to  waken  in  the  morning  " — 
Harriet  was  too  preoccupied  with  her  own  transforma- 
tion to  notice  minutely  what  had  been  her  mother's  — 
"  to  watch  the  trees  sway  outside  —  not  the  courtyard 
of  a  hotel  with  lonesome  gray  flakes  of  soot  drifting 
down;  to  have  a  log  fire  all  one's  own.  Is  there  any- 
thing more  heavenly  than  the  smell  of  burning  pine 

407 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

boughs?  And  to  have  one's  own  blankets  and  furni- 
ture —  and  everything." 

She  laughed  at  her  own  incoherence.  "  To  have  one's 
house  and  no  one  come  within  it  save  those  asked;  to 
watch  Sally  be  as  gay  at  heart  as  she  ever  was;  and 
father " 

She  hesitated,  but  Densie  helped  her  on.  "  Father 
must  find  his  grip  again;  we  shall  not  worry  about  that." 

"  He's  like  the  father  of  long  ago  —  of  croquet  and 
fishing-party  days.  He's  young  again." 

"  It's  the  cooking,"  Densie  laughed. 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do?  I'm  a  sort  of  educated  drift- 
wood person.  I  can't  do  anything  but  the  work  for 
which  I've  been  trained.  I  can't  seem  to  think  of  any- 
thing I  can  do.  I'm  not  domestic,  mummy.  Sally  is; 
but  I  want  to  do  something  that  is  going  to  help." 

Densie  was  silent;  she  was  studying  Harriet's  face,  but 
whatever  she  thought  she  kept  to  herself. 

"  I  was  thinking  this  morning,"  Harriet  finished  with 
characteristic  honesty,  u  that  Saint  Theresa  was  quite 
right  when  she  said,  '  Nervousness  is  largely  selfish- 
ness.' ' 

The  postman  interrupted  their  conversation.  Densie 
came  back  from  the  rustic  letter  box  with  a  confused 
expression.  She  sent  Harriet  out  in  the  back  yard  to 
find  her  father  and  sister  and  tell  them  to  plan  for  twice 
as  large  an  asparagus  bed  as  they  had  said  they  intended. 

Left  alone  she  opened  the  letter  addressed  to  her  and 
laid  Sally's  mail  aside  without  glancing  at  it.  It  was 
Indian  summer  —  and  the  senator  had  dared  to  write 
once  more.  It  was  hard  to  believe  that  Densie  had  so 
valiantly  relinquished  the  worlds  she  had  conquered,  had 
returned  to  her  own  hearth  and  her  three  broken  reeds. 
Wonderful  and  praiseworthy  as  it  was  —  did  she  feel 

408 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

content?  Was  she  quite  sure  she  was  happy?  It  was 
Indian  summer  —  and  he  was  very  lonesome.  There 
could  never  be  any  other  old-fashioned  fairy  save  Densie 
Plummer. 

Densie  hurriedly  drew  out  some  notepaper,  and  re- 
gardless of  her  approaching  family  and  her  various  stew- 
pans  bubbling  away  at  a  warning  gait  she  answered: 

"  Harriet  has  just  now  told  me  that  she  believes  with  Saint 
Theresa  that  nervousness  is  very  largely  selfishness.  I  cannot 
help  but  wonder,  my  dear,  if  loneliness  is  not  synonymous,  too? 
Forgive  me  if  that  hurts.  But  your  life  is  so  unhampered  by  ties, 
free  to  attempt  the  idealistic  reforms  of  which  we  talked  —  was 
it  a  hundred  years  ago  ?  —  that  you  have  no  right  to  go  seeking 
maudlin  schoolboy  happiness.  It  is  not  meant  to  be.  Such  men 
and  women  as  yourself,  who  hare  no  ties,  no  material  want,  a 
mind  and  heart  attune  with  God  —  such  as  you  are  those  who  are 
meant  to  have  careers.  Who  was  it  said,  '  He  who  climbs  high 
must  climb  alone  '  ? 

"  If  you  could  see  us  in  the  new  home  —  the  change  in  Harriet 
since  she  has  learned  that  each  task  is  everyone's  task  in  a  measure 
and  that  the  world  cannot  be  institutional ;  Sally  learning  to  cook 
and  bake  and  laugh  at  the  same  time ;  and  John  his  old  self  again  ; 
our  boy's  picture  like  a  guardian  angel  in  our  living  room  —  oh, 
James  Gleason,  you  would  be  ashamed  to  think  you  have  dared 
tempt  me ! 

"  I  expect  great  things  of  you  during  your  Indian  summer  — 
not  a  time  of  romance  and  personal  solace,  but  of  great  tasks  ac- 
complished for  our  nation.  Do  not  fail  me.  Take  the  love  you 
offered  me  and  give  it  to  our  cause  —  and  you  will  find  that  In- 
dian summer  will  be  everlasting.  DENSIE  PLUMMER." 

She  had  scarcely  sealed  the  note  when  the  family 
descended  upon  her,  Captain  coming  to  lie  at  her  feet 
in  abject  worship. 

"  Well,  girls,"  John  had  said  as  they  were  about  to 

409 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

come   into   the   house,   "  shall   we   go   in   to   mother? " 

To  which  they  agreed  as  they  used  to  in  the  years 
when  Densie  was  still  a  personage  and  had  not  become 
the  faulty  individual  her  family  tried  to  convince  her 
that  she  was.  John  had  taken  their  arms  and  they 
had  strolled  in  together,  chatting  about  next  year's  war 
garden  and  the  fact  that  Captain  certainly  had  good 
blood  in  him  or  he  would  not  have  heeled  John  without 
teaching,  and  a  root  of  honeysuckle  could  become  a  thing 
of  joy  and  beauty  if  planted  near  the  front  doorway,  and 
if  they  had  an  ice-cream  freezer  they  could  give  a  party. 
"  Like  we  used  to  have,  daddy,"  Sally  said,  squeezing  his 
arm  in  affection. 

4  Well,  my  young  Americans,"  Densie  questioned  as 
they  came  in,  "what  ahoy?" 

"  We've  planned  the  garden.     Come  and  see." 

u  Here's  a  letter,  Sally."  She  handed  over  the  enve- 
lope. "  I'll  take  a  turn  about  the  '  estate,'  and  then  I 
must  see  to  dinner." 

"  I'll  run  upstairs  to  tidy  my  room,"  Sally  excused  her- 
self. 

She  bounded  up  the  stairs  and  reached  her  room,  care- 
fully closing  the  door.  The  letter  was  from  Dean  Ladd- 
barry.  Her  heart  beat  quickly  as  it  one  time  used  to 
beat  for  Rex  Humberstone  in  those  first  mad  days. 

It  was  a  long  jolly  letter,  with  only  a  brief  paragraph 
to  sympathize  with  her  for  what  had  happened,  but  that 
better  things  must  be  in  store.  He  was  head  over  heels 
into  work  with  the  alfalfa  crop,  hardly  knew  which  way 
to  turn.  The  business  was  doubling  itself  in  no  time 
and  they  wanted  to  start  an  Eastern  branch.  He  might 
drop  round  at  Christmas  time  —  if  Sally  didn't  mind. 
He  had  sent  the  letter  in  care  of  Densie's  former  hotel 
address  and  if  she  was  not  there  he  was  sure  it  would 

410 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

be  forwarded.  Everyone  knew  Mrs.  Densie  Plummer! 
He  felt  a  lot  of  things  he  could  not  write  —  about  Ken, 
about  everything.  Would  she  drop  a  line  and  say  if  she 
would  be  at  home  round  Christmas  time? 

Harriet  found  her  sister  sitting  in  the  dusk,  the  letter 
in  her  lap,  looking  out  at  the  tossing  tree  limbs  and  listen- 
ing to  the  wind  play  weird  melodies. 

"  What  in  the  world,  Sally "  she  began  with  a 

trace  of  the  old  irritable  non-understanding. 

Sally  started  up.  "  I'm  sorry.  I  meant  to  come 
down  long  ago." 

"  We  thought  you  must  be  housecleaning."  Harriet 
turned  on  the  light.  "Why  —  you've  been  crying." 
Her  voice  softened.  "What  was  it,  Sally?" 

She  stood  away  from  her  sister,  as  awkward  as  a  man 
who  has  no  right  to  caress. 

"  Only  my  silliness  as  usual.  I've  been  thinking  what 
a  lot  of  years  I've  wasted  —  and  now  it  is  too  late." 

"What  is  too  late?"  Harriet  glanced  shrewdly  at 
the  letter.  "Oh  —  is  that  from  Dean  Laddbarry?  " 

"How  did  you  know?"     Sally  retorted  sharply. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  all  sticks  and  stones,  even  if  I  cannot 
be  a  rosy  creature  of  romance.  Perhaps  I've  wasted 
years  too." 

It  was  the  first  admission  Harriet  had  ever  made  to 
her  sister.  Sally  rose  and  came  to  kiss  her  impulsively. 

"  Harriet,  we'll  never  desert  mummy  again,  will 
we?" 

"  Never  —  nor  worry  her." 

"  What  a  long  time  it  has  taken  to  realize  values ! 1 

"  But  what  a  long  time  we  still  have  to  realize  them," 
Harriet  comforted. 

"  What  will  you  do  with  yourself,  Harriet,  after  you 
are  quite  strong?  Go  back  to  New  York?" 

411 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"  I  don't  know,  Sally;  I  want  to  be  useful  and  be  at 
home  —  that's  about  all." 

"  Which  is  enough." 
'What  will  you  do?"     Harriet  retaliated. 

Sally  blushed.     "I  —  don't  —  know,"   she  hesitated. 

Harriet  gave  her  a  little  shake.  "  I  don't  believe 
you,"  she  said. 

The  next  morning  John  and  Harriet  went  to  the  city 
with  a  shopping  list  and  Sally  and  Densie  were  left  to  put 
the  house  to  rights. 

"Was  your  letter  from  Dean?"  asked  Densie  when 
she  felt  the  opportune  moment  had  approached. 

Sally  nodded  and  fell  to  redusting  the  shiny  table  top. 

"What  did  he  say?" 

"  Sent  his  love  —  and  he  might  be  in  town  Christmas 
time  on  business.  He  sent  the  letter  to  your  hotel  so  it 
was  delayed.  He  had  heard  about  Rex." 

Sally  stopped  dusting  and  stared  down  at  the  floor. 

"  Look  up  at  me  —  so."  Densie  tilted  her  daugh- 
ter's chin  between  her  small  fingers.  "  Ah  —  I  think 
I  understand.  Please  tell  Dean  to  take  Christmas  din- 
ner with  us.  It  is  to  be  a  family  dinner  —  and  he  is 
welcome." 

Sally  caught  her  mother  in  her  arms.  "  Waltz  with 
me,  waltz  with  me!  "  she  cried,  dragging  the  small  re- 
joicing mummy  about  the  room  until  they  stood  before 
Kenneth's  picture.  Then  Sally  released  her  hold. 

"  If  Ken  were  only  here,"  she  said  softly. 

"  Who  can  say  he  is  not?  "     Densie  answered  slowly. 

A  week  later  Harriet  came  into  her  mother's  room 
with  a  strangely  sheepish  expression.  She  had  returned 
from  walking,  her  hands  filled  with  glowing  ivy  leaves 
and  a  spray  of  late  fall  blossoms. 

412 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

"What  now,  my  dear?"  Densie  asked.  "You 
look  very  radiant.  I'm  quite  proud  of  my  sanitarium." 

Harriet  bowed  her  thanks.  There  was  something  of 
the  boy  about  Harriet  —  or  rather  a  sexless  elfish  sprite 
even  though  the  gray  did  creep  noticeably  into  her  black 
hair.  She  threw  off  her  wraps  and  came  over  to  Densie, 
looking  at  her  mother  in  approval.  Densie  no  longer 
used  an  eye  pencil  or  rouge  and  her  face  had  the  pink- 
ish blush  of  middle  age,  middle  age  which  has  not  spared 
itself.  The  brown-gray  hair  was  gathered  in  a  simple 
knot  and  her  eyes  were  so  violety  that  no  novelist  could 
have  resisted  them.  They  deepened  as  she  watched  her 
daughter.  Her  frock,  a  gray  mull  with  black  velvet 
bows,  completed  the  picture. 

"  What  a  dear  you  are  I  "  she  said  impulsively. 

Densie  was  so  pleased  that  she  blushed  as  much  of  a 
blush  as  if  the  senator  had  spoken. 

"Well  — what  now?" 

"  I've  come  to  believe  that  often  the  individual  can 
accomplish  more  than  the  organization.  Mummy,  have 
you  any  particular  use  for  the  long  room,  the  erstwhile 
study,  you  said  it  was?  There's  nothing  but  packing 
boxes  in  it  now,  is  there?  " 

"  Yes  —  what  are  you  going  to  start?  A  woman's  re- 
formatory? " 

Harriet  stammered  in  her  confession. 

"  It  —  it    sounds    stupid    perhaps  —  it    would    have 
sounded  stupid  to  my  nervous,  selfish  old  self  —  but  I've 
been    walking    a    good    deal    near    the    railroad    dis 
tricts " 

"And  I  pictured  you  in  the  woods!     Why  the  rail 
road?" 

"  There  are  so  many  children,"  she  continued  soberly. 
"  I  don't  know  just  how  it  started  —  some  of  them  were 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

fighting  one  day  and  I  waited  to  see  how  it  would  end. 
Then  I  talked  to  them  —  and  they  listened.  And  I  gave 
the  one  with  a  bleeding  nose  my  handkerchief.  I  have 
never  been  friends  with  children  —  but  all  at  once  I  began 
to  want  to  be.  Then  Captain  helped;  he  made  friends 
with  them  and  the  youngsters  used  to  beg  to  see  him  do 
his  tricks.  And  they  would  ask  me  questions  —  about 
everything  under  the  sun  —  and  I'd  have  to  hurry  to  think 
up  the  right  answers.  And  as  I  talked  to  them  I  saw 
how  thin  and  malnourished  of  mind  and  body  they 
were  —  and  how  helpless !  It  was  their  helplessness  that 
made  me  want  to  aid  them.  Unless  someone  would 
stretch  out  a  hand  they  would  never  have  anything  in 
their  child  lives  but  blows  for  kisses  and  curses  for  kind 
words.  And  so  I  began  telling  stories.  I  was  as  shy 
about  it  as  any  bride  cooking  her  first  meal.  But  they 
liked  it  —  and  I  told  myself  that  all  my  training  must 
not  be  wasted.  Everyone  must  love  someone,  mummy  — 
isn't  that  right?  " 

Densie  nodded. 

"  The  next  day  after  I  began  stories  I  taught  them  a 
song,  their  poor  harsh  little  voices  tried  hard  to  carry  the 
tune.  So  they  began  to  watch  for  me  every  day,  and  I've 
never  disappointed  them  even  when  it  rained.  And  they 
came  in  the  rain  and  I  thought  of  how  happy  they  would 
be  safe  inside  some  warm  house  and  of  the  side  room  and 
what  a  splendid  little  place  it  would  be  for  them.  I  would 
have  little  lectures  and  teach  the  girls  to  sew  and  the 
boys  to  knit  and  carve  wood.  Only  on  Saturdays  and 
Sundays,  mummy  —  and  there's  a  separate  entrance  so 
they  would  not  bother  you.  I  do  want  the  children  — 
would  you  mind?  " 

"  Mind?  Go  downstairs  and  see  how  much  work  must 
be  done  to  get  the  room  ready.  It  is  furnace  heated," 

414 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

Densie  added  with  her  ever-ready  practicality.     "  Har- 
riet, you're  cruel." 

"  It  was  deciding  to  be  a  very  pale  blue-stocking," 
Harriet  laughed,  "  that  did  it.  And  you've  no  idea  how 
interesting  children  are!  "  She  was  unconscious  of  her 
own  enthusiasm.  "  There  is  one  little  girl  as  beautiful 
as  a  Madonna,  and  a  boy  who  wants  to  go  to  college, 
and  a  lame  child  who  needs  a  crutch,  and  two  others  with 
crossed  eyes  that  could  easily  be  cured.  Mummy,  do  you 
remember  when  Sally  said  it  was  fun  just  to  be  alive? 
Well,  she  was  right  1  " 


415 


XLVI 

Dean  Laddbarry  waited  for  Densie  to  break  the  silence 
and  Densie  waited  for  Dean  Laddbarry  to  express  his 
opinion.  They  looked  at  each  other  like  mischievous 
children  who  had  somehow  evolved  a  sudden  and  rather 
unexpected  success. 

"Tired,  Madame  Plummer?"  Dean  asked  as  he 
watched  the  flush  in  her  cheeks  deepen. 

"Nice  sort  of  tired.  How  are  you?"  Densie  was 
knitting  swiftly  on  her  war  sock.  '  What  makes  you 
idle  on  a  Wednesday  morning?  I  didn't  think  you'd 
want  to  stay  in  to  talk  to  an  old  lady!  " 

"  Don't  you  know  that  the  day  after  Christmas  is  al- 
ways nicer  than  the  holiday  itself?  The  warmed-up  tur- 
key dinner  is  always  more  delectable,  the  Christmas  tree 
a  trifle  more  familiar  —  it  has  lost  that  first  impressive 
stateliness  and  you  don't  mind  attacking  the  centerpiece 
of  fruit  and  raisins,  which  on  Christmas  Day  you  felt 
bound  to  regard  with  awe  and  lack  of  desire.  Besides, 
it's  snowing,  and  I've  a  hope-to-die  living  room  and  open 
fire  and  the  nicest  young-old  person  to  talk  to  and  ask 
advice.  It's  jolly  to  loll  back  among  cushions  and  watch 
the  snow  crowd  in  vain  against  the  windows  and  look  at  — 
oh,  see  for  yourself." 

He  waved  his  hand  vaguely. 

Densie  looked.  She  saw  the  Christmas  tree,  so  tall 
that  John  had  had  to  cut  off  the  top  branches  in  order 
to  get  it  in  the  standard,  white  with  cotton-wool  snow  and 
glistening  with  tinsel  with  a  young  and  laughing  Santa 
Claus  perched  on  the  top,  and  foolish  inexpensive  trifles 

416 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

—  for  this  was  a  war  Christmas  —  scattered  beneath  the 
boughs. 

Harriet's  children  had  come  yesterday  afternoon  after 
dinner  to  rifle  the  tree  of  goodies  and  mittens  and  mufflers 
and  an  absolutely  unessential  bit  of  foolishness  for  each 
which  was  contributed  by  Dean  Laddbarry,  the  Santa 
Claus  Lochinvar  out  of  the  West,  who  had  dropped  in 
two  days  before  Christmas  expecting  to  find  a  preoccupied 
and  socially  rushed  Plummer  family  and  who  had  been 
led  into  Densie's  kitchen,  which  was  fairly  bursting  with 
the  forthcoming  menu,  and  had  been  set  to  stoning  raisins 
and  picking  out  walnut  meats. 

Dean  had  scarcely  had  time  to  collect  himself  and  re- 
arrange his  mental  picture  of  the  Plummers.  Having 
left  them  a  la  carte,  so  to  speak,  it  was  rather  a  stunner 
to  return  and  find  them  in  a  rejuvenated  Little  House 
conducted  on  the  good  old  American  plan. 

Bits  of  red  ribbon,  stumps  of  bayberry  candles,  boxes 
with  holly  wreaths  and  tissue  paper  were  still  piled  in  dis- 
order on  the  chairs  and  tables.  A  book  of  carols  was 
on  the  piano  rack.  Harriet  had  taught  her  ragged  ur- 
chins to  gather  about  while  Sally  played  the  old  Mahogany 
Tree  and  they  sang  it  shrilly. 

Kenneth's  picture  was  framed  in  evergreen  and  a  vase 
of  white  flowers  placed  underneath  and  his  baby  picture 
was  twined  with  holly  and  placed  on  the  desk. 

She  saw  Captain  sleeping  happily  before  the  wood  fire, 
dreaming  of  the  flock  of  turkey  bones  flying  in  his  direc- 
tion. The  clock  ticked  peaceably  and  the  sun  shone 
through  the  fluted  white  curtains  and  made  known  to  this 
erstwhile  boy  of  Densie's  that  Sally's  hands  had  dusted 
the  rooms  as  carefully  as  her  great-aunt  would  have 
done. 

Without,  John  Plummer  was  cutting  wood  —  it  was  his 

417 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

delight,  he  protested,  to  chop  the  logs  as  he  had  done 
when  a  boy.  It  limbered  him,  he  insisted,  when  Densie 
would  have  interfered.  Harriet  and  Sally  had  gone  with 
baskets  to  various  mothers  and  grandmothers  of  Harriet's 
children  who  had  been  without  Christmas  cheer. 

They  had  asked  Dean  to  squire  them  about,  but  with 
unusual  lack  of  interest  he  declined,  saying  he  wanted  to 
talk  to  Densie  and  his  time  was  limited. 

"What  made  you?"  the  big  honest-eyed  man  de- 
manded suddenly.  "  Whatever  in  the  world  caused  such 
a  miracle  ?  " 

Densie  dropped  her  knitting.  "  Does  it  seem  so  to 
you?  I  thought  I  was  the  only  one  who  overestimated 
what  has  happened." 

"  A  miracle !  "  he  repeated  stanchly. 

"  Why,  when  I  saw  you  last " 

He  paused,  bringing  to  mind  the  fashionably  dressed, 
hurried  woman,  preoccupied  with  the  world's  needs  and 
her  own  advancement;  the  eccentric,  impersonal  Harriet; 
John  mistaking  the  shadow  for  the  substance;  and  Sally 
with  her  tired  dead  eyes. 

Densie  pointed  to  the  picture  of  her  son. 

u  His  death.  I  had  no  home  to  bring  him  to  —  that 
taught  me,  Dean.  I  saw  it  then  as  I  could  never  have 
seen  it  otherwise.  I  l9st  no  time  in  trying  to  right  the 
wrong.  Dean,  if  American  women  of  to-day  who  feel 
that  homes  are  irksome  and  duties  are  nightmares,  if  they 
could  know  the  agony  that  destroying  a  home  will  bring 
them!  Nothing  takes  the  place  of  home  —  nothing!  " 

He  nodded. 

"  And  we  go  to  church.  Not  that  we  only  believe  all 
we  hear  from  the  pulpit,  for  most  of  us  believe  far  more. 
So  does  he  who  stands  in  the  pulpit  if  he  could  speak  with- 
out censure.  We  go  because  church  attendance  is  a  thing 

418 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

interwoven  with  home,  because  every  right  thinking  and 
living  person,  particularly  at  this  time,  should  lend  his 
presence  to  some  spiritual  creed  and  give  tangible  proof 
thereof  that  this  is  so.  We  have  no  right  to  call  our- 
selves '  above  '  going  to  church  or  '  too  far  advanced ' 
or  '  It  is  not  necessary;  I  say  my  own  prayers  in  my  own 
way.'  It  is  as  much  of  a  duty  as  to  rise  when  our  national 
hymn  is  played  or  to  salute  the  flag  physically,  evidence 
of  the  mental  feeling  the  sight  of  it  inspires.  It  has  done 
us  good  to  come  once  more  into  a  family  pew  and  listen 
reverently  to  the  words  of  a  man  of  God." 

"  You  are  right  —  if  more  persons  went  to  church  and 
fewer  spent  their  time  explaining  why  they  did  not  need 
to  go,  this  world  would  be  a  saner  place." 

"  It  is  like  those  who  explain  why  homes  are  not  neces- 
sary —  what  do  they  give  us,  these  reformers,  after  they 
have  shattered  our  faith  and  blotted  out  our  customs? 
Nothing !  And  that  is  not  even  an  attempted  honest  ex- 
change." 

"  You  have  gathered  them  back  safely,"  he  said. 

"All  but  my  boy  1" 

After  another  silence  Dean  rose  and  tiptoed  over  to 
her,  putting  his  great  tanned  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"Let  me  be  your  boy,"  he  begged.  "I've  always 
wanted  to  call  you  mother.  I  lost  mine  before  I  could 
remember  her;  and  a  chap  never  has  but  one.  You've 
lost  your  boy.  I  love  your  Sally.  Won't  you  let  me  call 
you  mother?  " 

Densie's  hand  reached  up  to  pat  his. 

"  You  still  love  her?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  shall  always  love  her.  Do  you  think  it  is  too 
late?" 

"  Have  you  told  her?" 

"  She  knows  without  my  telling;  she  has  always  known. 

419 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 


I  did  not  speak  of  it  openly  before  the  holiday  for  fear 
I  might  have  marred  it." 

"  Then  ask  her,  Dean " 

"  And  if  she  is  willing?  " 

"My  son!" 

Densie  turned  to  kiss  the  broad,  lined  forehead.  After 
which  she  gave  way  to  a  very  feminine  and  proper  little 
cry  with  Dean  holding  her  tenderly  —  and  imagining  it 
was  Sally. 

"  This  will  never  do,"  Densie  admitted  as  Captain, 
roused  by  the  commotion,  came  wagging  over,  bent  on  in- 
vestigation. "  Suppose  John  found  me  crying!  He 
would  think  I  was  longing  for  the  old  sort  of  living  — 
I'd  never  be  able  to  convince  him.  Dean,  go  sit  there  and 
tell  me  about  Indians  or  tarantulas  or  something  quite 
outside  my  realm." 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  about  business,"  he  added  quickly; 
"  and  if  Father  Plummer  comes  in  I'll  know  he's  been 
eavesdropping  and  waiting  for  the  right  moment.  I've 
a  new  partner  for  my  firm  who  will  represent  the  Eastern 
branch.  The  name  of  the  firm  is  Laddbarry  &  Plummer. 
How  does  that  sound?  " 

"Dean!" 

"  We  did  manage  to  put  one  over  on  you,  in  spite  of 
your  second  sight.  You  didn't  know  your  husband  was 
my  partner  in  the  Alfalfa  Food  Company  and  that  he 
takes  the  East  and  I  the  West.  I  leave  you  Harriet  for 
a  bookkeeper  and  head  clerk  if  she  likes  —  but  I  say  I 
must  have  Sally  to  darn  my  socks  and  boss  my  Chinaman 
as  she  wishes.  Mother,  you  don't  think  we've  slighted 
you  —  because  while  all  this  rush  of  commerce  has  been 
taking  place  you've  been  keeping  the  house.  And  I'll 
bring  Sally  back  to  you  for  every  Christmas  and  let  her 
stay  until  she  wants  to  come  out  to  me  —  I  promise." 

420 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

John  was  fumbling  at  the  latch  just  then,  staggering 
under  a  pile  of  wood.  Densie  rose  to  help  him.  The 
three  of  them  piled  the  logs  in  the  wicker  basket,  Densie 
talking  in  a  rather  incoherent  fashion. 

"And  you  never  told  me,  John;  nor  Harriet.  Dean, 
you  might  have  just  hinted.  Sally  and  I  are  certainly 
intelligent  enough  to  have  understood.  Well,  when  does 
this  start  —  this  new  firm?  " 

Finished  with  the  logs  John  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  It  has  started,  brave  heart,"  he  said.  "  We  signed 
partnership  the  day  Dean  landed  here.  It  was  why  he 
came." 

"  Partly  why  I  came,"  Dean  supplemented. 

"  The  girls  will  be  coming  home  along  the  track.  Do 
go  meet  them,  Dean,  there's  a  dear." 

Obediently  Dean  vanished. 

Left  alone  Densie  faced  her  husband  almost  shyly,  an 
expression  of  guilt  on  her  small  face  and  her  eyes  that 
tantalizing  novelist's  shade  —  freshly  picked  violets  with 
the  sun  streaming  in  on  them. 

"  My  John,  we've  not  lost  each  other  —  or  life  —  or 
work  —  or  God,  have  we?  "  She  held  out  her  hands. 

"  You  saved  all  of  them  for  us,  Densie." 

She  looked  at  the  picture  of  that  sunny  faced,  dark  eyed 
boy  whose  lips  were  mute  to  say  what  he  had  overheard 
and  approved. 

«  Not  —  quite  all,"  she  faltered. 

John  stroked  her  hair  with  a  tender  lover's  hand. 

"  If  it  were  all,  Densie,  it  would  be  too  much  to  ask 
at  this  time  of  stress.  Something  had  to  be  sacrificed, 
something  always  does  have  to  be  sacrificed  to  attain 
victory.  I  have  thought  about  it  a  great  deal  since  our 
boy  was  killed.  But  what  right  have  we  to  cry  out  in  pro- 
test when  we  have  found  our  home,  and  our  girls  their  bet- 

421 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ter  selves,  and  you  and  I  our  love  ?  Do  you  remember  the 
story  Uncle  Herbert  used  to  tell  us  of  a  Sunday  after- 
noon —  about  the  one  shining  angel  who  was  flung  out  of 
heaven  into  the  black  pit  because  he  looked  with  envy 
upon  the  brighter  gold  of  the  celestial  streets  than  was 
the  color  of  his  halo?  " 

"  I  remember,"  she  said  solemnly;  "  I  understand." 
But  she  almost  whispered:  "Still  —  you  are  not  his 
mother." 

Harriet  burst  in  on  them  later.  John  was  explaining 
in  detail  to  Densie  the  possibilities  of  the  new  firm  and 
of  his  new  duties.  He  was  talking  in  the  old  animated 
fashion  that  Densie  had  admired  without  profit  so  long 
ago,  making  computations  on  the  corner  of  her  house- 
keeping pad  and  proving  conclusively  that  by  the  end  of 
the  next  year  they  could  have  a  modest  car  to  whisk  about 
in  and  that  he  could  do  most  of  the  garden  work  be- 
sides —  as  his  war  contribution.  The  company  would 
deal  with  such  matters  as  he  was  familiar  with  —  and  he 
had  been  trained  by  the  old  school  of  honor;  that  this  was 
what  American  food  dealers  needed  at  the  present  time  — 
not  profiteering.  Men  who  were  willing  to  think  first  of 
their  nation  and  secondly  of  themselves  and  to  wait  until 
the  day  of  peace  before  they  hoarded  wealth  rather  than 
investing  in  national  needs  and  securities. 

"  I  left  Dean  and  Sally  wandering  sentimentally  along 
the  track,"  Harriet  announced.  "  Let  us  hope  the  fast 
express  does  not  try  to  chaperone  them.  Everyone  was 
delighted  with  the  things,  and  poor  old  Granny  Leighton 
cried.  She  hadn't  tasted  turkey  in  years.  And  the  men's 
tobacco  caused  ecstasy.  Well,"  she  asked  her  father, 
"  have  you  fessed  up  ?  " 

He  nodded,  holding  up  his  hands  in  surrender. 

"  Didn't  know  your  roof  harbored  conspirators,  did 

422 


you?  "  She  sat  by  the  fire  petting  Captain  and  warming 
her  hands.  '  You  see,  it  was  this  way  —  father  and 
I  had  to  pay  you  back  for  all  you've  done.  If  you  got 
the  home  we  must  get  the  business.  Fifty-fifty,"  Harriet 
said  joyously.  "  And  I've  found  someone  who  wants  to 
come  over  to  help  you  all  you  wish  —  a  good  old  soul, 
but  too  shy  to  ask  for  help.  So  you'll  be  able  to  dis- 
pense with  me  —  for  I've  never  done  anything  of  special 
value  except  ask  for  a  second  helping  of  everything." 

Harriet's  eyes  glowed  with  happiness.  There  was  a 
robust  color  in  her  face  and  her  hands  did  not  twitch  and 
tremble,  but  lay  passively  in  her  lap  save  when  they  patted 
Captain.  She  wore  her  frock  of  "  spinster  green,"  as 
she  called  it,  with  a  feminine  grace.  No  one  else  could 
have  worn  such  a  frock  and  seemed  properly  dressed. 
Harriet  was  well  content  with  her  station  in  life  she  had 
declared  —  her  children,  her  new  work  with  her  father, 
her  home.  What  more  could  one  demand?  As  well 
imagine  Harriet  with  a  romance  as  to  picture  Oliver 
Cromwell  at  the  opera ! 

"What  do  you  think  about  Dean  and  your  sister?" 
began  John. 

"  I  don't  think  —  I  know,"  Harriet  answered. 

Late  that  night  Sally  tapped  at  her  mother's  door. 

"  You  know,  of  course,"  she  said,  laughing,  having 
looked  about  to  be  sure  Densie  was  alone.  '  You  shan't 
have  the  pleasure  of  extorting  a  confession.  Mummy, 
I'm  happy;  not  madly,  wildly  happy,  the  sort  of  joy  that 
is  so  terrible  to  have  come  to  one  —  but  just  happy,  every- 
day happy.  And  now  I  want  to  learn  everything  from 
you  that  I  can.  Dean  won't  wait  past  June." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  it  so!  " 

"  And  you  think  it  is  right  —  and  not  too  late?  " 

"  I  think  it  is  life,  Sally;  and  life  very  often  does  not 

423 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

stop  to  think,  it  punishes  and  rewards  us  all  in  a  moment." 
"  How   unprepared   I've   been   to   marry  —  to    really 

marry  and  make  a  home.     Mummy,  teach  me,  won't  you? 

I  want  to  be  just  like  you  if  I  can." 

John  had  been  right.     Densie  must  not  ask  for  more 

reward  than  was  being  given  her,  lest  she  too,  like  the 

shining  angel  of  old,  be  dethroned  because  of  greed. 


424 


XLVII 

The  garden  of  the  Little  House  had  been  properly 
coaxed  and  prevailed  upon  to  look  its  best  for  Sally's  wed- 
ding. Harriet  and  her  children  spent  the  better  part  of 
their  time  making  vines  climb  artistically,  persuading 
roses  to  blossom  as  soon  as  possible  and  placing  the  sun- 
dial clock  in  the  center  of  the  old-fashioned  bed  of  ver- 
benas and  carnation  pinks  —  an  oak  pedestal  with  this 
verse  cut  deeply  on  one  side: 

Hours  fly;  flowers  die; 
New  days;  new  ways 
Pass  by  —  Love  stays ! 

John  and  Densie  had  helped  with  the  beautification  as 
well,  though  business  kept  John  downtown  until  distress- 
ingly late  hours  —  as  late  as  Densie  had  once  been  wont 
to  stay,  and  he  had  been  bullied  into  resting  and  forbidden 
to  sit  up  to  read  when  he  did  come  home.  Sally  had  been 
occupied  within  doors.  She  would  have  all  the  time  to 
romp  outside  when  she  went  to  her  new  home,  and  she 
chose  this  time,  wisely,  to  become  skilled  in  everything 
her  mother  could  teach  her,  a  trifle  later  than  was  best 
to  learn  —  but  not  too  late. 

She  made  her  rather  simple  clothes  herself,  sewing  a 
woman's  resurrected  dreams  and  hopes  into  their  fine 
seams  or  clever  embroidery.  She  thought,  as  she  would 
lay  away  some  white  dainty  garment  in  the  lavender- 
scented  shelves,  of  how  the  other  trousseau  had  been 
bought  for  her  by  a  preoccupied,  ambitious  mother  and 
accepted  by  a  preoccuped,  infatuated  girl  —  showy,  fash- 

425 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

ionable  things,  turned  out  from  unsanitary  shops,  very 
likely,  poorly  made,  but  with  style  and  warranted  only  for 
a  season's  wearing. 

Sally  even  made  her  wedding  cake  herself;  she  had 
written  Dean  that  she  would.  It  was  as  fruity  a  cake  as 
wartimes  would  allow,  and  it  stood  in  state  on  the  dining- 
room  serving  table  waiting  for  its  final  icing. 

It  was  to  be  as  simple  a  wedding  as  any  real  garden 
wedding  could  be  —  they  twined  Kenneth's  picture  with 
roses;  and  unbeknownst  to  the  children,  John  and  Densie 
stood  beneath  it  to  say  a  little  prayer  and  cry  a  tear. 

Sally  was  all  pink  roses  and  cream  lace  and  a  leghorn 
hat  with  bows  under  the  chin,  as  Dean  requested.  She 
made  Harriet  be  her  only  attendant,  though  Harriet  pro- 
tested —  and  helped  her  select  her  frock,  a  dainty  or- 
gandie with  a  silver  sash. 

"  You  must  wear  gray  silk,  mummy,  and  comb  your 
hair  the  old-fashioned  way  that  you  used  to  —  I  want  to 
go  away  remembering  you  so  —  and  daddy,  who  has 
grown  handsome  again,  being  entirely  too  well  fed,  will 
rival  Dean." 

No  one  argued  with  Sally  —  she  was  too  happy  to  have 
listened  if  they  had  —  for  she  turned  protests  into  kisses 
and  refusals  into  hugs,  and  there  was  an  end  of  it. 

There  was  little  time  for  the  wedding,  business  calling 
Dean  home  as  soon  as  he  could  come  —  and  bring  Sally. 
So  he  slipped  into  town  one  night  in  time  to  see  the  wed- 
ding cake  before  it  was  iced  and  to  have  a  satisfactory  talk 
with  his  new  business  partner,  and  then  in  the  early  morn- 
ing he  married  Sally  —  the  birds  singing  their  wedding 
march  and  the  breeze  sweeping  through  the  roses  as  a 
benediction. 

It  was  so  simple  and  so  joyous  that  no  one  thought  of 
being  pensive  for  an  instant  except  Captain  when  he  was 

426 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

driven  from  a  position  of  attack  upon  the  sliced  tongue. 
In  a  going-away  dress  of  blue  serge,  her  hands  crowded 
with  roses,  Sally  told  her  family  good-by. 

"  I  want  to  be  called  a  bride,"  she  insisted.  "  I  am 
so  happy  I  want  everyone  who  sees  me  have  to  take  time 
to  stop  and  smile.  And  I  want  to  leave  the  best  share 
of  my  happiness  behind  with  mummy  and  daddy  and 
Harriet  —  and  particularly  mummy,  for  she  taught  me 
how  to  be  happy.  So  I've  no  right  to  take  it  all  away." 

"  I'll  bring  her  back  every  Christmas,"  Dean  promised, 
"  to  stay  as  long  as  she  wishes.  It  isn't  that  you've  lost 
Sally  —  but  have  gained  a  son." 

He  stooped  and  kissed  Densie,  his  hand  outstretched 
toward  John. 

"  Good-by,  Harriet  dear,  I  love  you,"  was  all  Sally 
said  to  her  sister,  but  it  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  told 
her  those  words  and  the  first  time  that  Harriet,  splendid 
spinster  of  the  modern  business  world,  invaluable  in  her 
work  and  attitude  toward  life,  took  Sally  in  her  arms  and 
held  her  close. 

The  three,  with  Captain  wagging  his  tail  faster  and 
faster,  stood  at  the  gate  to  wave  good-by  as  the  machine 
drove  down  the  pathway. 

There  was  silence  when  only  the  brown  road  showed 
itself.  Then  Harriet  said,  "  Let's  sit  on  the  porch  and 
plan  our  first  visit  to  Sally." 

At  which  John  and  Densie  looked  at  her  in  gratitude. 

John  and  Harriet  took  twin  rockers  and  began  a  stimu- 
lating chat  as  to  travel  and  business  —  for  Harriet  was 
his  "  confidential  man,"  as  John  loved  to  call  her.  Densie 
stole  inside  for  a  moment.  They  hardly  noticed  she  had 
left. 

She  went  to  the  picture  of  her  boy,  the  roses  about  the 
frame  fading  a  trifle.  She  stood  on  tiptoe  to  rearrange 

427 


A  WOMAN'S  WOMAN 

the  wreath,  and  as  she  did  so  tears  came  to  blur  his  loved 
features.  But  she  paused  before  she  wiped  them  away. 
It  may  have  been  an  illusion  —  scientists  could  have  ex- 
plained it  so  clearly  that  faith  and  miracles  would  have 
seemed  bone-dry  things  of  some  defective  imagination  — 
but  the  dark  eyes  in  the  picture  suddenly  smiled  at  her. 
They  were  living  things  telling  her  to  be  at  peace,  that  he 
was  still  with  her.  They  were  smiling  at  her  as  they  had 
smiled  so  many,  many  times. 

Presently  the  eyes  grew  into  the  silent  dead  things  of 
a  photographer's  film.  But  Densie  had  seen  and  would 
always  understand  and  be  comforted.  Nor  would  she 
share  her  secret  even  with  John.  After  all,  she  was  his 
mother  —  and  mothers  are  a  little  different  from  the  rest 
of  the  world,  and  they  are  not,  like  shining  angels  of  old, 
flung  into  black  pits  when  they  grieve  for  their  youngest 
born. 


THE    ENJJ 


428 


-3 


University  of  California 
SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


3  1158  01009  5775 


LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  038  375    2 


